


Symbiotic Relationship

by WorldWanderer



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Humor, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Friendship, FrostIron - Freeform, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, I'm new to tagging, M/M, Magic, Past Torture, Post-Avengers (2012), Really just guessing here, Slow Build, Spells & Enchantments, Trust Issues, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-07-10
Updated: 2014-01-05
Packaged: 2017-12-18 08:19:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 25,824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/877645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WorldWanderer/pseuds/WorldWanderer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Loki and Tony are hit with a spell that forces them to remain in close contact with one another. They must learn to coexist quickly or else face debilitating physical and mental pain. Story takes place post-Avengers and will eventually be Tony/Loki (Frostiron).</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first post on A03, I'm sorry if it's tagged wrong or labeled wrong or anything! Hope you enjoy, and I'll try to update frequently.

Tony would rather be doing anything else right now. Anything. Well, with the possible exception of that finance meeting Pepper kept dangling over his head. As it happened, however, he wasn't doing anything else, he was stuck doing this. Zipping around as Iron Man, trying to do damage control on his city (again), as Loki and Amora faced off (again) rather viciously.

It had become a worrisome trend over the past month, that instead of fighting Loki, their once clear cut enemy, the Avengers were stuck dancing around him like referees, trying to keep things from getting too out of hand, as he duked it out with the current bane of their existence, Amora.

The only difference today was that Tony was consecutively battling a mighty hangover that had him breaking out in sweats and tremors and seeing stars when he caught a particularly wicked sun glare. Not particularly conducive to his patented Iron Man airborne grace.

"Jarvis, remind me to cut back on the drinking," Tony groaned, as his eyeballs throbbed in their sockets.

"Of course, sir. I will continue to remind you with every glass," his A.I. quipped back to him, making Tony roll his eyes.

He focused himself back on the present issue as a blast of green, rolling like a cloud, flew from Loki's hands at Amora. He caught a brief flash of fear on her face as she just barely managed to hit the ground and flatten herself to it before the ominous magic passed over her and hit the corner of a nearby building.

A shout reached Tony's ears and he cursed, searching for the source. The Avengers had already evacuated this part of the city as the battle had begun ramping up; who the fuck had decided it was a good idea to stay behind?

He made eye contact with Clint, who was posted on a rooftop across from the one that had taken the most recent hit, and he pointed at the row of windows near the blast, on the 14th floor. Hawk had sharp eyes.

Flying in to take a closer look through the haze of smoke and dust, he could just make out the figure of a young man, frantically moving from one window to the next, trying to find a way out. The walls behind him had caved in with the blast, leaving him in a bit of a smoky death trap.

Wasting no time, Tony flew through the wreckage, smashing none too elegantly through an already broken window and a bit of wall for good measure. Looking up, he saw the guy frozen in place, wide eyes focused on Iron Man.

"Hey, kid, you're okay, yeah? I'm gonna get you out of here, you'll be fine, don't panic."

Tony watched in mild disbelief as said idiot kid slowly raised an amateur video camera up to focus on the most infamous Avenger. Making a face behind his mask, Tony spared a glance around the room and saw the mangled remains of a tripod next to one of the windows, directly facing Loki and Amora. His pulsing headache seemed to magnify and he rolled his eyes.

"Oh, fuck me, really? You decided not to evacuate like every other New York citizen in a mile radius because you wanted YouTube glory? Really, kid?" Tony was more than peeved.

"I'm a student journalist, I stayed behind to show people the truth!" the kid managed to stutter out, looking mildly indignant, but still mostly just petrified.

"What, the truth that two non-human, hyper-powerful entities have decided to make a few blocks of New York their personal boxing ring? Yeah, this shit has been going on for a month now, I think people get it. Own up, you wanted a cool video for your Facebook page."

"No, I-" Before he could force out a reply, Tony had crossed the room and wrapped an arm around the kid's waist.

"Hold tight and keep your head down," Tony grumbled, "idiot." He added for good measure.

Really, the hangover was doing nothing for his temperament.

The kid latched onto him with one arm like a lifeline, which Tony supposed, he kind of was, while still managing to keep his camera up and rolling with his left hand. Well, Tony thought, might as well give them a show…

With slightly more force than necessary, he rose up into the air and blasted out of one of the glass and debris free widows.

Moving quickly, he sped away from the battling psychopaths, and towards Steve, who was stationed down on the street, ground level.

"Hey Cap, we still have evac running?"

Steve kept his eyes focused on the rooftops above, glancing briefly at Tony, then his cargo, to make sure everyone was intact. As soon as they met his approval, his eyes snapped back towards the current threat, just pointing to the east block.

"Sure Tony, head down that str – Hey!" Steve exclaimed in surprise, as with a forced enthusiastic, "Great!" Tony shoved the troublesome kid at him, spun on his heel, and took to the air once more.

Because really, how was he supposed to deal with self-righteous adolescents lacking in all common sense when his head was pounding like this? It just wasn't humane.

He was jolted back to the present as a sharp crackle of thunder announced the arrival of yet another Asgardian to New York's rooftops. With enough force to make the building shudder, Thor landed near Loki, Mjolnir in hand, and rushed towards him.

"Brother! Let us once again take up arms together to defeat this common foe!"

"Keep your distance, Thor, I have no want nor need of your help. Your presence is most unwelcome," Loki ground out, trying to simultaneously keep his eyes on Amora and stare down Thor.

Hurt was written all over Thor's face at his once-brother's words, but he immediately hardened his features and faced Amora as well. Unfortunately, shoulder to shoulder and facing Amora, their backs were rather exposed. She jumped on the opportunity, clapped her hands together once, and the behemoth known as Skurge seemed to materialize into existence behind the two oblivious Asgardians.

"Watch your back, Thor!" Tony yelled, even as he flew towards them, blasters already trained on Skurge.

In a crash of metal and flesh, Tony slammed into Skurge, sending them both smashing into a rooftop air vent. As he struggled in the close quartered, hand to hand combat, Thor and Loki both barely spared a glance at them before turning to face Amora once more.

"Oh, yeah, it's cool guys, I've got this one. Don't worry your pretty, godly heads about the MONSTER back here, I've got him if you think the two of you can handle the tiny girl!" Tony snapped and he and Skurge continued to roll around, taking swings and grappling at each others throats.

Every time he looked up, Amora seemed to be giving as good as she was getting, lobbing attacks at Thor and Loki simultaneously, never letting her guard down for a second.

Tony finally found an opening in Skurge's bulky defense, however, and with a well-aimed blast, left a gaping hole through the villain's torso.

"Ha! Gotcha, fucker," Tony growled in triumph, struggling to his feet and throwing the enemy away from him.

Amora, Loki and Thor all seemed to focus their attention on him at once, and with a raised eyebrow, Loki snarked out, "Well, at least someone on your team seems competent enough to render actual assistance, Odinson. Do take notes."

With a ferocious snarl, Amora's eyes flashed as she looked at Skurge lying motionless.

"You know," she said, voice quiet and threatening, "it really breaks my heart to see brothers torn apart so. I think it's time I take my family home, and help you rebuild what's left of yours."

With a dangerous gleam in her eye, she summoned Skurge to her with one hand, while flinging two identical purple bolts of light at Thor and Loki with the other.

Reacting fast, Tony tried to shove Loki out of the way, while simultaneously launching himself at Thor in a full on tackle. Unfortunately for Loki, Tony's one-armed shove wasn't enough to move him even an inch and the purple light hit him full on in the chest. And unfortunately for Tony, while he successfully tackled Thor out of harms way, the purple light slammed into him instead, knocking the wind out of him.

Tony heard a scream, and was pretty sure it was coming from his own throat. But then, somewhere in the back of his pain-addled brain, he recognized a twin scream issuing from close by. He started to roll over and see where it was coming from, but at that instant, he felt something yank him at great speeds across the rooftop. He felt himself slam into another body, but before he could deduce much of anything, black spots took over his vision and he felt his mind go peacefully numb.


	2. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look at that, chapter two up already. I'm not normally this speedy, I just already have quite a few chapters written. So as quickly as I can get them posted, you can have them :)
> 
> Not a lot of Loki in this chapter, but chapter three will be entirely from his point of view.

Tony snapped awake with a jolt and immediately wished for blissful unconsciousness again. Every inch of him hurt. Every inch of his skin burned, every muscle and bone ached, and his head was pounding so much worse than a hangover. His eyes hurt, even his nail beds hurt, everything…

As he slowly started to take in his surroundings, he realized he was back in his own bedroom at the tower. His memory of how he got there, however, was pretty damn fuzzy.

"Sir, I have alerted Dr. Banner to your state of consciousness, per his request. He will be entering your room shortly," Jarvis informed him, granted in a much lower decibel than usual. God bless him.

As promised, it wasn't ten seconds later that Bruce knocked softly on his door before entering. He gave Tony a genuine smile as he approached the bed.

"Glad to see you're back in the land of the living."

"How long was I out?" Tony asked. He figured that if he had to function enough for conversation, he could at least try to piece together what the hell had happened.

"About 4 hours. Give or take. I had you in the medical bay for a while, but I couldn't find anything wrong with you other than some bumps and bruises. So I figured you should rest up in your own bed."

"Nothing wrong with me…so I'm not concussed or anything? All of my bones aren't broken?" Tony didn't like this at all. There was a lot wrong with him if his pain receptors were anything to go by. If whatever this was wasn't showing up in standard medical tests, it was cause for concern.

"All of your bones…no, Tony, of course not. Why? Do you feel like all of your bones are broken?" Bruce had worry in his eyes now.

"Well, to be honest, yeah. At least broken. Or maybe like the marrow has been replaced with lava. Yeah, that's a better description. Not to bitch and moan or anything, but literally everything hurts. Like a lot. More than bumps and bruises."

"That just leaves the spell, then," Bruce muttered, almost to himself, now watching Tony with caution, as though he would combust at any moment.

And just like that, it all came rushing back to him…Amora, the spell meant for Thor and Loki, but that had hit Tony. And Loki? And Loki. Had to have. He remembered someone else screaming, too. Well, at least whatever he was suffering through, Loki was probably off somewhere equally miserable. And misery does love company. Tony felt slightly better with this new revelation.

"What happened after the spell hit? Do you know?" Tony asked Bruce with mild apprehension. He wasn't sure how much Bruce had been filled in on by the rest of the team. Since the Avengers were only supposed to be running damage control, they had decided that perhaps Hulk, a walking damage magnet, might want to sit this one out.

"Well, it might be easier to show you than to try to explain it to you," Bruce said, "It's pretty strange, actually." And with that Bruce reached for Tony's laptop, which was resting on the nightstand, and asked Jarvis to bring up the surveillance footage of the last portion of the fight.

Tony watched with morbid fascination as he tackled Thor, letting the light from Amora hit him square in the back. He also saw the twin bolt hit Loki in the chest. They both fell to the ground at the same time and immediately began to scream. Tony remembered that pain with a small shudder, like white-hot irons piercing him right down to his soul. The pain he was in now was dull by comparison. He felt his eyes widen though, as without warning, Tony and Loki seemed to be picked up by an invisible force and hurtled at each other, full speed. He winced as he watched the impact, both of them landing back on the ground in a tangle of limbs. Tony had been entirely unconscious by this point, but he was surprised to see Loki remained alert, grimacing, eyes darting around wildly as he sat up. He seemed to stare at the spot Amora had been standing, then touched his chest where the curse had hit him, then looked down at Tony laying next to him. Something that might have been panic flashed across his face, and even as Thor was rushing towards both of them, he closed his eyes, lines of pain etched in his face, and teleported just as Thor was reaching out to him.

Tony felt a brief pang as he saw his friend, hand still outstretched to the little brother he loved so much, and watched his face crumple when Loki vanished before his eyes. However, he quickly fell to his knees, scooped Tony up in his arms, bridal style (and wasn't that embarrassing), and rushed away with him.

Bruce flipped the laptop closed with a sigh, replacing it on the nightstand.

"So. Pretty weird," he said with a bit of a shrug, "I wish I knew of some way to help, but to be honest, I already ran all of the standard human medical tests, and you check out just fine. So whatever pain you're in, whatever side effects you're having, I think they're probably from whatever curse Amora threw at you. And that's just so far out of my area of expertise it isn't even funny."

"Yeah," was all Tony could manage to say, "Yeah, this doesn't really feel like a normal battle injury. It's like the pain's not originating from anywhere in particular. But at the same time it feels like it's coming from everywhere. And man, maybe I'm just being paranoid, but I swear it's getting worse every minute." Tony could feel his heart begin to thump slightly faster against the arc reactor. Shouldn't the pain be getting better, not worse, the longer he rested? He really hated magic.

"We need to talk to Thor. Maybe he has some guesses on what's going on, because this is way out of the realm of our science."

"Point Break, here I come," sighed Tony.

He painstakingly levered himself out of bed under Bruce's watchful eye, wincing slightly as his feet touched the ground and he stood up. He was painfully aware of Bruce hovering right next to him, ready to catch him should his legs give out.

"Really, buddy, I'm fine. I'm in massive amounts of pain, but I've walked away from worse. I'm not going to collapse on you."

"We have no idea what you might do, as spells and curses and enchantments are a bit outside of our bailiwick," Bruce muttered, but did back off by a few inches, making a halfhearted attempt at placating his friend. Together they made their way down to the spacious living room and kitchen and found Clint and Natasha sitting close together on the couch, talking very quietly.

"Hi, lovebirds," Tony said with his trademark smirk, taking a small amount of glee from the identical glares that were sent his way. He leaned heavily on the back of a chair across from them.

"Good to see you up and around, how are you feeling?" Clint asked him. Natasha, meanwhile, simply nodded at him and let her eyes run over him, undoubtedly taking in more than Tony would really care to divulge about his present state.

"Natasha, my dear, please, stop undressing me with you eyes," Tony said with a wink, pointedly ignoring Clint's question about his well-being. "Where's our local Thunder God? I need to have a little chat with him about what the hell this Amora chick is capable of, exactly."

"Thor's not here, he and Steve got dragged off to another press conference with Fury. They're attempting to smooth over the fact that we seem to have no handle on how to stop Amora, or how to prevent her from making the city her own personal punching bag. Looks like quite a bit of property damage was picked up this time, people are starting to forget the fact that we've had no casualties lately, and focus on the fact that their homes and workplaces could get caught in magical crossfire at any moment."

Tony groaned out loud, dropping his head onto his forearms, which were folded across the back of a chair.

"Stark, is there anything we need to know about?" Natasha asked him quietly, her hard eyes focused on his face. Tony, for his part, just pressed his forehead harder into his arms. The pain was definitely getting worse. Bruce hesitated a moment before answering for him.

"You've both seen the video footage of the fight. You saw Tony get hit with something. Whatever it was, it seems to have much longer-term effects than what we originally thought. None of the tests I can do turn up much of anything, so we need to talk to Thor, immediately, and get his take on what we could be facing here."

Tony, meanwhile, had staggered over to the liquor cabinet, pouring himself almost a full tumbler of scotch, just as Pepper Potts walked through the door.

"Tony! You're up! You're okay! Are you okay? You look a little pale. I was so worried," Pepper rapid-fired at him, "Oh, by the way, if you're feeling up for it, there's a Stark Industries meeting tomorrow that I could really use you at, it would just make the whole thing go so much more smoothly, and we still need to have that budget meeting, and Tony, that's no way to recuperate," she finished, snatching the glass out of his hand and tossing the scotch down the sink in one fluid motion, ignoring Tony's twitching eye. This is one of the reasons they had broken up. Pepper was a great CEO, one of his best and only friends, the person he trusted perhaps above all others, but she could not, for the life of her, stop bossing him around like a petulant child. Which to be fair, he acted like a good amount of the time. But that didn't mean he wanted to be treated like one.

"Pepper," Tony sputtered, "that was 30 year Macallan, you can't –"

"Oh relax, it's not as though you can't afford it," she said, rolling her eyes at him.

"Kind of missing the point, there," Tony groused, as Pepper came closer to him, studying his face.

"Tony, you really don't look well at all," she said, concern creeping back into her voice, "maybe you should go back to bed, get some more rest."

Tony sighed. It's not as though he could do much of anything without Thor here. And he really did feel like shit. And it was definitely getting worse.

"Yeah, you know what, I think I will. Let Thor know I need to see him as soon as he gets back." Tony said, making his way out of the common area, away from all of the concerned glances and worried faces staring him down.

Back in his room, Tony collapsed onto his bed, not even bothering to get under the covers, and fell asleep almost immediately. His dreams were full of flying spells and sharp bolts of pain, and oddly enough, of Loki, face screwed up in a silent scream and back arching beyond what a spine should be able, as he fell on the rooftop.

With a jolt, Tony's eyes snapped open. He had been awoken by the feeling of falling, that sick feeling you get in your stomach as you plummet, faster and faster, before your brain kicks you back into consciousness. Heart racing he tried to sit up and realized, with a start, that there was no chance of that happening. His vision swam and vertigo hit him almost immediately, causing him to fall back against his pillow, taking deep breaths. The more he woke up and became cognizant of his surroundings, the more he noticed the pain coursing through him, so much worse than before. His limbs felt heavy and his skin felt like it was on fire. He could swear even the arc reactor, which obviously had no nerve endings, throbbed painfully in his chest, metal pressing uncomfortably against his heart and lungs.

"Jarvis…" Tony moaned, but couldn't form a coherent enough thought to actually ask his faithful A.I. for anything. "Help," finally fell from his lips, but the thundering pulse in his ears made it impossible to hear anything Jarvis might have said in reply.

He was vaguely aware of Bruce bursting into his room, feeling the back of Tony's forehead with his hand, resting two fingers against the pulse point on his neck, and finally, calling for Jarvis to have Natasha retrieve Thor immediately, no exceptions. Then he left again and Tony wanted to cry.

Bruce rushed back into the room soon after, although it had felt like an eternity to Tony, with an IV stand and bag in hand. Working quickly, he set up the stand and bag, quickly slid the needle into the crook of Tony's arm, and adjusted the dosage. Then, with a great sigh and wringing of hands, he sat down on the floor against the wall nearest Tony and waited.

Slowly, like creeping molasses, Tony's mind began to claw it's way up through the pain to once again be of use to him. Instead of being in the forefront of his mind, the pain was now a bit farther back, still very much there and making Tony aware of it's presence, but at least he could think through it. Bruce must have noticed a change in Tony's demeanor, because he was at his side a second later.

"Tony? Can you hear me?"

"Yeah, I hear you. What did you give me? I thought I'd hit the point of no return before you burst in here with your fancy drugs…"

"Um, morphine. Not an entirely legal amount of morphine, strictly speaking," Bruce said, looking a bit sheepish, "Sorry, I wasn't sure what else to do."

Tony let out a sharp laugh that made his ribs and lungs burn, "Bruce, my dear, dear friend, I'm no stranger to substance abuse. Besides, desperate times and desperate measures and all of that."

Their conversation was cut short however, as at that moment, a very concerned Thunder God charged into his room, almost knocking the door off of the hinges.

"Son of Stark! I came as soon as I heard. What has happened to you? Our Healer Banner looked you over immediately after the battle and saw no ills?"

"Well big guy, that's what I was hoping you could tell me. I need to know what the fuck that purple light was that Amora hit me with before I-" Tony cut off all of a sudden, dread sinking into him. He could feel the morphine slipping. He could fucking feel the pain, the spell, whatever, poking at it, testing it, and smothering it. He broke out in a cold sweat, looking at Bruce.

"This isn't going to last," he said, trying to keep his voice from shaking.

"Tell Thor everything you can, fast," Bruce said, checking Tony's pulse again and leaving his fingers on his neck to monitor it, while Thor focused all of his attention on his friend.

"So I got hit with the spell, and immediately felt severe pain and passed out. Woke up here, in moderate pain this morning, and as the day has progressed, it keeps getting worse and worse and worse," Tony managed, voice starting to shake as he anticipated suffering through that terrible pain again. And then, in a panic, Tony realized they might never be able to stop it. This wasn't treatable, this was some goddamn spell. Not science, not even human, fucking alien magic. The rest of his days might be spent on a bed, thrashing in agony or too drugged up to know the difference. This might be his end.

"What does it feel like?" Thor asked, keeping his voice intentionally softer than normal.

"At it's worst? Like I'm burning alive from the inside out, like someone's reaching into me with a hot poker and stabbing every nerve ending I have, over and over. It's not just physically painful, it's hard to describe, it's like I can feel something tearing at my mind, trying to pull at me or something, but I can't tell to what end. Sound like anything you've ever heard of?" he gasped out.

Thor looked at him for a moment, studying his face carefully. Tony felt like he was standing trial, awaiting a verdict from the jury. His cheeks were flushed and the rest of him felt cold and clammy.

"It sounds to me, my friend, like a binding spell of some sort. Particularly knowing as I do that Loki was hit with the same spell at the same time. And after Amora alluded to bridging the gap between myself and my brother, and knowing that the spell was meant for me…I'm so sorry my friend, it should be me in your place."

Tony felt like all of the air had been sucked out of his lungs. He had no idea what the fuck a "binding spell" entailed, only that he did not want to be bound to Thor's wayward brother in any way, shape or form.

"What does that mean, exactly? What does a binding spell entail? Are they just meant to drive the victims closer together with pain, until they create a joint suicide pact or something? What the hell is this?" He gasped out, trying and failing to keep the panic out of his voice. He was starting to see black and white spots dance in his vision.

"I'm not an expert on sorcery, spells and magic were more of my brother's area of study. However, from my rudimentary knowledge of them, they generally require some sort of relationship between the two parties involved. Sometimes one is dependent on the other, and sometimes it is a symbiotic relationship. As you and Loki were hit by the same light, and at the same time, I could guess that yours is the latter," Thor said, still gazing at Tony, clearly trying to gauge his reaction to all of this. "There are different variations to be found in that as well. Some spells require a mental bond to form, some require close proximity, some require physical contact of…varying degrees," Thor finished, looking somewhat uncomfortable. As his words started to sink in, Tony found another wave of panic crashing over him. Just trying not to imagine exactly what physical contact of varying degrees with Loki would mean, he continued to question Thor, even as the morphine was wearing off entirely, leaving him feeling raw and reeling.

"So," Tony ground out, trying to find a solution before he became a useless, writhing ball of agony again, "so if we can find Loki, if I can, like, hug your lunatic brother or something, maybe this will all go away?"

"The spell will most likely not be broken on contact, but if we can manage to get yourself and my brother in the same room together, we can likely find a solution for the pain. It will also behoove us to find him as he is a powerful sorcerer, and may be capable of breaking the enchantment."

Tony tried very hard to absorb all of this, tried to push the pain that had him seeing stars to the back of his mind, but there was one thing bothering him almost more than the rest.

"So if this is symbiotic, and Loki needs me too, where the hell is he? Why would he hide away and suffer if he knew there was another solution? He can teleport, he knows where the tower is, he's been here before, surely he would guess that we can call a truce until this gets sorted out. Hell, we've practically had an unofficial truce for a while now, or at least a cease-fire."

This last part, Tony mused, was oddly true. They hadn't truly fought with Loki at all as of late. The past month, they had seen him fight Amora, joining in every so often, but they hadn't squared off against Thor's little brother since the Chitauri.

It had been a year since Loki's attempted coup. Thor had kept them informed of Loki's punishment, which had only lasted 6 months on Asgard. At first the team had been furious, calling for more, but Thor talked them down, eventually divulging a few details of what exactly torture meant on Asgard, which left them all feeling a bit ill. They had sent him back to unspeakable horrors, worse than any earthly government could dream of concocting. Not to mention Thor had explained how they could slow time, how in 6 months, Loki had mentally and physically felt it as decades. The remaining 6 months had been odd, to say the least. Every so often they would hear of Loki doing a good deed here or there on some distant planet (or causing mischief), every so often popping up unexpectedly to see Thor (and cause mischief), which the Avengers could never quite get used to. There was something rather unsettling about your former enemy randomly teleporting into existence right fucking next to you without any warning.

It had actually been Tony to point out the fact that Loki's eyes had faded from the luminescent blue to a more natural green at somepoint between the Chitauri invasion and the next time they saw him. Thor had admitted that Loki had most likely been at least partially influenced by Thanos during that time, although certainly not to the extent that Clint had been. He had still made terrible decisions, and there was still blood on his hands. But as Thor had pointed out, he was the god of mischief, not death. He had no true bloodlust.

Even with these new revelations about Loki, however, Tony was less than thrilled to be bound to him in any way. He was still unpredictable and unimaginably dangerous. He was snapped back to the present as Thor started to speak to him again.

"I'm fairly certain that Loki shares your pain, Man of Iron, but you have to realize, he has felt much, much worse. He has lived for thousands of years and endured much torture and torment in that time. He will be in equal pain to you, but it is likely that he can ignore it for quite a bit longer than a mortal. Eventually, however, I would imagine that he would succumb to it and find you. Or he will discover a way to break the spell from a distance."

Well. That didn't sit well with Tony at all. He wasn't sure how much longer he would make it, and if Loki was apparently impervious to pain, he was pretty sure he would lose his mind before the god even broke a sweat.

"Thor," he mumbled, intent on telling him something…but for the life of him he couldn't remember what. As the pain began to take over all senses, Tony fell in and out of awareness of the room around him.


	3. Chapter Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Loki's POV, enjoy...

Loki grit his teeth as he saw the spell headed straight for him, coming too quickly to block or dodge entirely. He glanced over as he felt Stark, in full Iron Man regalia, give his shoulder a shove as he directed the rest of his force towards Thor in a flying tackle. Undoubtedly meant to move Loki out of the way, it instead barely made him shift his weight, the mortal's one-armed push doing little to move a god.

He felt the spell hit him in the chest and his back arched of its own accord, crying out as he crashed to the ground, feeling like he had just been hit with Mjolnir. Twice. He was caught off guard as he felt himself lifted into the air and propelled none-too-gently towards Stark. They collided hard, both falling to the ground again, his legs tangled with Stark's, and Stark's heavy metal arm thrown across Loki's throat, which was a disconcerting feeling to say the least. He had been sensitive about anything touching his throat ever since the life was nearly choked out of him repeatedly by the disgusting Chitauri, their clammy, vice-like hands fastening around him, squeezing until his eyeballs bulged in their sockets.

He shook the memory off and forced himself up, looking at the spot where Amora had just been standing, replaying her words in his head. "Brothers torn apart…help you rebuild…" Oh this was very bad. Loki could say with no doubt, definitely extremely bad. His hand hovered over his chest where the spell had struck, shaking slightly, before he dropped his gaze to Stark, the inevitable truth sinking in. A binding spell. It had to be a bloody binding spell. That bitch. Judging by the way their bodies had careened towards each other, and how now, even through their armor, there was an unsettling tingling where his legs touched Stark's and where the mortal's arm had fallen to land against his hip when he had sat up, there was no doubt left in his mind.

He had no idea how long he had before the effects of the spell set in, nor did he have any idea exactly which spell had been used, which left him precious little time to return to his home and work on finding a way to break it. Without a second thought, he braced himself for the pain of separation from the bond, and teleported away. The last he saw of the rooftop was Thor stretching out a hand towards him. Left just in time then, he thought bitterly to himself.

When he arrived at the apartment he kept rented on Midgard, a shock of pain coursed through his veins, momentarily taking his breath away. He slowly began to breathe again though, and pushed any discomfort to the far back corners of his mind. There were more important matters at hand. Like how the Hel to ensure that he didn't spend the rest of his days bound to a fucking avenger.

At that thought, another worrisome thought struck Loki: What would happen if one of them died? Amora wouldn't have cast a spell that would be broken upon death, she wouldn't have risked Loki killing Thor to get away from him. Would the remaining survivor be slowly driven to insanity? He was bound to a mortal. Did that limit his life to another 30, maybe 50 years at most before he faced unending agony for the rest of his immortal existence?

He had to find a way to break the enchantment. Or a counter-spell. Something, anything, being trapped like this was unacceptable. He had spent too much of his life in both literal and figurative bonds already, his life was finally his own, he wouldn't give that up. His heart was thudding in his chest so hard he wondered if it might burst. And wouldn't that just be humiliating.

Forcing air in and out of his lungs painfully slowly, he went to the wall of books he had gathered, both from Midgard and from Asgard, as well as various texts he had acquired on his travels of late, and began pulling any and all spellbooks and volumes on sorcery that he could find. There had to be something…

Ten hours later, and he had found nothing. He could not find a single blasted spell or counter that fit whatever Amora had done. What an evil quim. His hands were shaking and he wasn't sure if it was from rage or pain or exhaustion. Probably a combination. Sighing in resignation, he knew what he had to do. He would be sharper, he would think much more clearly if he didn't have to devote so much energy to compartmentalizing and managing the pain. He would teleport to the mortal man's tower while he still had the energy to do so. He felt a sudden twinge of guilt seep into his mind when his thoughts fell to Stark. He had undoubtedly been suffering greatly this entire time. If he was honest with himself, Loki had lost track of the time completely, so absorbed in the hunt for a solution that the hours had slipped by, even as the pain grew. Had he been paying more attention, it's possible he would have sought out Stark sooner to spare them both a bit of pain, but the prospect of ending this entire fiasco without ever having to be near him, to feel a pull, to feel trapped had been too appealing.

He was forced to accept now though that there was no other solution and time was running short before he would be an incoherent mess, able to do nothing but wish for the end…again. How many times had he been in that position? How many times had he wished for the sweet nothingness of death? More than he was willing to be honest with himself about. The injustice of it made his blood boil.

For as long as he could remember, his life had not been his own. Cast out at birth by a monster of a father who did not want him, only to be picked up by someone of possibly equal cruelty, who would use him as a pawn. To spend his entire life trying to please Odin, trying to earn enough respect from his broth – from Thor – to walk alongside him and not behind. To make a terrible mistake in an effort to gain their respect and lose them both entirely in the process, only to find himself very much trapped and very much alone drifting in the vast oblivion. Then he was found, by the Chitauri, by Thanos, and he thought he had found a savior. He thought he belonged. His mind became susceptible, and like a puppetmaster, Thanos had placed little seeds of thought, little influences here and there, scattered throughout his mind like landmines. He hadn't even realized what had happened until the great green beast had maimed him and it was over.

And then Asgardian justice…oh, Asgardian justice. Physical torment and torture on an unimaginable scale, and more mind games than even the God of Mischief could have known. It had seemed to go on forever, his imprisonment, his punishment, although upon his release he was informed it was almost no time at all. Then for 6 blissful months, he had been free. He could roam The Nine Realms, roam the entire galaxy, meet creatures who did not know him, who did not judge him. Occasionally even lend a magical hand, which actually earned him gratitude, a pleasant surprise. He had felt elation like he had never known. To be the master of his own fate, to be in control of his own life, it made his blood sing just to think of it. And now this. He could practically feel the chains weighing him down as he thought about being bound to the man of iron. It made it worse, made it hurt more, to feel this now after having had a taste of freedom.

He pushed the miserable thoughts away, back into the dark corners of his mind where so many unsavory things dwelled. The only thing to do now was to go to Stark, recover, and gauge the situation from there. Perhaps if he spent a day with Stark, he could then come back and research for a few days without him, and return when needed to refuel, as it were.

Or perhaps, the cynical part of his mind said, perhaps you don't get to refuel. Perhaps it isn't a reservoir to be filled, and you will be in anguish every moment you are apart. You will never have another moment to yourself, much less another day. You might as well belong to The Avengers now…

Loki took a deep breath to steady himself. If he could not be apart from Stark, then he would bring Stark back with him. Stark could sit silently by as Loki researched a way to end this predicament. He smirked to himself trying to picture Start sitting idle and quiet. That was an unlikely scenario. But he had to admit, of all of the mortals he had encountered, Stark was one of the cleverest by far. He could probably even aid Loki in research, help them to reach a solution faster. Yes, he would make this work. He would regain his freedom.

Feeling better about the situation, and beginning to notice more pain creeping into his awareness, he closed his eyes and pictured Stark's tower.

He appeared in the only room he was familiar with, the common area, but once he was in the same building as Stark, it was easy to pinpoint his location for a more accurate destination. He paused only long enough to look up at Captain America, who had dropped his bowl of cereal on the ground with a crash, mouth open and eyes comically wide as he stared at Loki standing in the living room.

"Hello," Loki said casually, before vanishing on the spot, leaving a flabbergasted Steve Rogers in his wake, spinning around wildly, looking for any sign of danger.

He landed next in Tony's bedroom, staggering a bit as his energy and focus wore thin, but almost immediately feeling a physical surge of relief hit his body and wash over him like a wave. It certainly took the edge off of the pain that had been wrecking havoc on him.

He started to move instinctually towards the prone man on the bed when a slight cough from the opposite side of the room stopped him dead in his tracks. He quickly looked over to find none other than the doctor, the hulk, staring back at him. The quiet man with the roaring beast inside who could literally rip him limb from limb in seconds. He felt an uncommon burst of fear course through him and his hands shook slightly. Just his luck to break into the tower and then unknowingly trap himself in a room with the one avenger who actually posed a threat. He was weak to begin with, after the curse taking its toll and a double teleportation, there was no way he stood a chance. He swallowed hard, keeping eye contact with the man who did nothing but sigh and rub the back of his neck, as though displeased by the fear he could feel coming off of Loki in waves.

"Look, I've got it under control, alright? I seriously doubt you're here to hurt the person you were bound to, and actually, we've kind of been hoping you would show up for a while. So don't do anything evil, don't give me any reason to get angry, and we're fine. You're fine here. Okay?" Bruce addressed Loki in quiet, somewhat resigned tones. Loki swallowed again and nodded, still wary, but subconsciously began to creep closer to Stark.

"So you know it's a binding spell?" Loki asked him, now playing with the edge of the blanket on Stark's bed. He felt another burst of guilt as he looked down at the mortal. Stark was sweating and twitching every once in a while, and seemed completely unaware of his surroundings. Banner watched him carefully, maybe to make sure he didn't harm Stark, maybe to see if his presence helped him. He didn't know, but to be honest, as long as he wasn't throwing him through walls and floors, he didn't care. He did find himself slightly self-conscious now that he was here though, particularly with the other man watching his interaction with Stark so closely. He felt more of a pull to Stark than he had been expecting as well, which was certainly more than a little bit disconcerting.

"Thor told us that was his best guess. He wasn't completely sure what the details were though… Do you know more about it? I mean, Tony already seems better, just with you nearby. He was crying out and thrashing around quite a bit more than that before you got here. As soon as you came in though, he calmed down," Bruce said and paused, waiting for a response, but when Loki seemed unsure of what to say, Bruce prodded a bit more. "So is that as good as it gets? Or will it help more if you like, touch him or something?" Bruce asked somewhat awkwardly.

Loki was more than a little surprised by this last question. For some reason he thought that the other Avengers would be appalled by him even being in the vicinity, not to mention adamantly opposed to any real contact with Stark, so he had been waiting until they were alone to try anything else.

"I am unsure," Loki answered honestly, "I still do not know the specifics of the spell and was not even certain you would approve of my presence here, much less anything in addition to that. You're certain your beast will not make an appearance if I try?" he asked, hating the way his voice almost wavered at the end.

"Well," Bruce gave him a small smile, "I'm not saying you can molest him or anything, but yeah, try, I don't know, try touching his arm or something. Baby steps," he said, with a bit of a laugh.

Loki almost caught himself smiling at the man's dry humor, as he leaned closer to Stark. Hesitantly, he reached out his hand and clasped it lightly around Stark's forearm.

Nearly all of the remaining pain receded so quickly that Loki almost fell over. Stark almost immediately stilled as well and took a deep breath that almost turned into a contented sigh when he let it out. He kept breathing easily.

Loki slowly sank to his knees next to the bed, not removing his hand from Tony's arm, muscles relaxing for the first time since the rooftop.

"I take it that helped?" Bruce asked Loki, eyebrows raised at both of their reactions.

"Yes," breathed Loki, not even having the energy to look up from his position on the floor.

The arm beneath his hand shifted slightly and Loki's head snapped up. Looking right back at him was Anthony Stark, wide-eyed and alert.


	4. Chapter Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much to everyone for reading and commenting and kudos-ing and everything else! Much appreciated! To answer a few specific questions that Nightalp asked:
> 
> Why did Loki fight Amora? I do have an actual reason in the back of my mind, but I haven't decided yet whether it's ever going to surface in the story or not. I had kind of a whole other elaborate plotline running around in my head about how Amora had some sort of devious plan for Thor, and even thought Loki's not his biggest fan, still feels moderately protective of him, making Loki and Amora butt heads. Hence, Loki has become the lesser of all of the other evils the Avengers have to worry about. That might surface in more detail later in the story or it might not. We'll see if inspiration strikes.
> 
> "Nearly all of the remaining pain" vanished when Loki touched Tony's arm. What does it take to make all of the pain disappear? I'm afraid that's just unclear writing on my part. I guess I was thinking after being in significant pain for a while, it might take a bit of time for it to fade completely. But skin to skin contact does the trick, that's all that's required. Sorry ;)
> 
> If anyone else has questions, feel free to leave them in a comment or message me and I will try to address them. I love reading all of the comments! Thanks again, everyone!

This was, Tony decided, perhaps the most jarring thing he had ever woken up to, discounting all of the time he had spent in captivity. And he had had some interesting mornings to say the fucking least. Opening his eyes to find that one, the nerve shattering pain he had been in was all but gone, two, there was a god of mischief crouched next to his bed, and three, said god was holding his arm in an uncharacteristically gentle grasp was almost enough to convince him that his mind had snapped and this was all a hallucination.

When Loki's head rose up to meet his gaze though, Tony knew it was reality. Fear and anger both tinted the edges of his vision, but he was embarrassed to admit to himself that his predominant emotion was relief. Loki hadn't left him to die while his godly pain tolerance kept him healthy and, at least somewhat, happy. He was here. They would find a solution both of them could survive.

That or they would be stuck together for the rest of their lives. But that was such a disturbing thought that Tony refused to even acknowledge it. I mean, how the hell was he supposed to pick up one of his infamous leggy blondes if he was literally stuck to Loki?

Without warning, the mental image of a three way with Loki and a faceless blonde popped into his head and he almost laughed. Almost. There was just so much wrong with that picture…not to mention he got a weird vibe from Loki that he really didn't do sharing. And if that didn't just send his mind spiraling off in disturbing directions...

"Stark," Loki said, voice neutral. Out of the corner of his eye, Tony saw Bruce subtly back out of his room. He couldn't decide if that made him more comfortable about talking to their former enemy or less to know that he had privacy.

"Odinson. Laufeyson? Whichever you prefer," Tony said as calmly as possible. "Nice of you to stop by."

Tony could see the hesitation in his eyes. Well that was odd, a year a go he would have come back with a snarky remark immediately. And maybe thrown him out of a window for good measure.

"I realize you've been in rather significant discomfort this past day, due to my reluctance to come here and risk being manhandled by your…friends. I'm afraid I returned first to my home to begin research on a way to break this enchantment, but became engrossed, and did not realize my own pain until it was almost too late for me to travel here. Apologies," he said, with either true sincerity, or such a good farce of it that Tony would accept it anyway just for the amount of effort involved.

"Well, hey, I've been so deep in a project before that everything around me faded out, I get it. I once locked myself in my lab for 4 days straight, didn't eat, didn't sleep, just drank scotch whisky and worked on my suit…Pepper eventually broke in and forced me to cool it," Tony rambled, wondering why he was telling Loki personal stories. He cleared his throat. "Anyway…you said you went home to research. Find anything useful?"

"Not even remotely, although I departed before I was finished searching. I promise you, had I found a way to fix this, I would not have come here afterwards."

"Right, of course. So it's not something easy, like you kill me and you're off the hook?" Tony asked with a nervous laugh. He felt like a fool to even halfway suggest that as a solution, but he had to know if Loki was always going to be a hair's breadth away from murdering him anytime he was nearby.

"Truthfully, I do not know what would happen in the event of your or my death. I can't imagine Amora would have made it that easy, but then again, perhaps she wanted me to kill Thor with my own hands in the hopes of debilitating me with guilt."

Loki had been watching Tony carefully since the conversation had begun, and although he tried to hide it, Tony was fairly sure that Loki saw a hint of panic flash in his eyes. Loki looked at him for a moment longer, his expression guarded.

"It matters not," Loki said at last. "Whether it would break the spell or not, I will not murder you in cold blood. I trust you can offer me the same assurances?"

"Um, yes? Yeah, no problem. No offense here or anything, but between the two of us, I think I'm the least likely to resort to murder."

As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he knew he had said the wrong thing. Looking at Loki's face, he could see the emotions playing across his normally guarded expression. Fury, embarrassment, disappointment, sadness…all rolled into one convenient, guilt-inducing ball. Not that Tony should feel guilty for calling the guy a murderer, he was one, after all. Coerced or not by Thanos, it hadn't been like Clint. His decisions were still his own. And Tony refused to feel badly for calling him out on his shit. Or at least that's what he told himself, now trying desperately to avoid Loki's eyes. But when Loki spoke, his voice was calm, despite the strengthening grip on Tony's arm and the glint in his eyes.

"I believe, Stark, that it was you, not I, who was called the Merchant of Death. So forgive me for wondering if you might consider killing me to get out of this predicament."

"Okay," Stark snapped, feeling surprisingly defensive. Having his old nickname thrown in his face had caught him off guard. "That was a long fucking time ago. I've done everything I could to atone for my mistakes, and I'll never go back. I'm one of the good guys now. Requisite superhero suit and all. And yes, sometimes I might hate having to answer to Fury, and sometimes I might rather sleep in and nurse my hangover than go battle the next destructive alien of the week, and fine, I don't play well with others and prefer self-reliance to teamwork, but that doesn't mean that I would kill anyone if there was any other solution. So yes, Loki, I can offer you my very sincerest assurances that I won't murder you."

Loki's face was deceptively neutral now. Too neutral to be anything other than a mask.

"We have more than a bit in common, you and I," was his strangely vague response. Which did not sit well with Tony at all.

"No, actually, we have almost nothing in common. We both dislike our fathers, from what Thor's told me. Common ends there."

"Oh, but it really doesn't," Loki smirked, but did not elaborate. Tony had no clue what to say to that, grumbling something that sounded like a "whatever" and averting his eyes.

Why was it that this asshole had such a talent for messing with minds? Because the more Tony thought about it, goddammit, the more he could kind of see it. He had once been the so-called Merchant of Death, he had been tortured because of it, snapped out of it, atoned, and was now trying to make a new life for himself, make the best of his second chance. And now Loki seemed to have followed a similar arc. Damn it all. Fine. A few similarities, still not much. They were still two extremely different people. But a nagging voice in his head pointed out, if Tony deserved a second chance, didn't Loki as well?

Loki was still crouched somewhat awkwardly on the floor next to Tony's side of the bed and as they lapsed into a semi-uncomfortable silence he became more aware of the god's uncomfortable position.

"So, I don't know about you, but all of that thrashing around in pain really built up my appetite. Wanna go to the kitchen, grab something to eat?" Tony asked as casually as possible.

Loki was looking at him so strangely and unwaveringly that it was kind of making his skin crawl.

"You would offer me food?" He finally asked, the mildest hint of surprise in his voice.

"Well, yeah, I mean, you're kind of stuck here with me, I'm not going to starve you," Tony replied, feeling a bit confused. Did Loki really think he would try to make him more uncomfortable than they already were? "You realize you're not, like, a prisoner here, right? I mean, it's not like this was some elaborate plan by The Avengers to capture you. We're in this together, as far as I'm concerned. And honestly, I'm just relieved you're here. I was…I was in kind of bad shape, before you arrived. I don't want to be in that position again."

"Do not take me for a fool, I realize that this was not an attempt at a cunning plan on your part. I suppose, though, that I expected when I came here for you and your mighty band of heroes to use this to your advantage, if you were able. To try to control me or detain me. I did not expect to be on equal footing with you, Stark."

"Then why come here?"

"As I said before, I was not impervious to the pain. It may have taken longer for it to reach the same level as yours, but I wouldn't have been safe from it forever. I did not wish to condemn myself to such suffering."

"But you might have been able to break the enchantment before you reached that point. If either way was taking a risk, why choose this way? Why come to somewhere you thought wasn't safe?"

"You're one of the few mortals to even come close to me, intellectually. Even I can see it would have been a pointless loss to allow your mind to be damaged in that manner. And I'm the god of mischief and chaos, not suffering and death. That's my daughter, in a way. I would not have needlessly left you in that situation. I know you may not believe me, but truly, I was not myself a year ago. I'm not claiming to be a hero, and I doubt my morals will ever align with yours, but I'm not a monster. I'm not," Loki finished. It did not go unnoticed by Tony that his voice shook at the end of his little tirade, that by the end he seemed to be trying to convince himself rather than Tony of the truth in his words.

And hell, there was so much strange about what Loki had just said that it took Tony a second to wrap his head around it. Loki had almost complimented him. Said he didn't want him to suffer. And there was something in there about his daughter being the god (goddess?) of suffering and death? There was a god of that? And Loki had a daughter? Fuck.

"So when you say -" but before Tony could push him farther, Loki cut him off.

"I grow tired of this interrogation, Stark."

Okay, so that was as much soul searching as Loki was game for. Noted. Even though he assured Tony he was changed and said he wouldn't murder him in cold blood, that didn't mean he wouldn't fight back if pushed. And Tony really didn't feel like pushing today.

"Right, uh okay, sorry. So food, yeah? Let's get some."

Loki said nothing but stood up, waiting for Tony to do the same. All of a sudden Tony was aware that while Loki was fully clothed in battle regalia, he was merely in some boxers. Did Loki literally have to be touching him every second?

"So, what's the deal here? Can you wait outside or will that send us both reeling?"

"I know very little about the bond. When I'm in contact with you, there is no pain. When I was near you in the room, there was a bit, although it was manageable. I'm not entirely sure what the limits and requirements are."

"Alright then, just for shits and giggles, let go."

Loki stared at him for a moment before he released Tony's arm and took a step back. And winced. And yeah, Tony got that, because the second Loki let go his head started to pound. It wasn't awful, kind of like a bad hangover, which he was all too familiar with.

"Well, that's not great, but it's not terrible. Go outside and close the door behind you."

"Are you certain you want to test this now? It might be wiser to wait until you're fully recovered from earlier today."

"No time like the present."

Loki was really staring at him now, but muttering something under his breath about "unnecessary" and "idiot" he turned on the spot and walked out of Tony's room. He did not, however, close the door. Instead he leaned against the wall opposite the door and glared at Tony.

"Satisfied?"

"Ugh, yes, come back," Tony said in defeat. A foot or two away seemed to be a headache; a room away seemed to be a full body ache, with small pinpricks of pain shooting from finger to toe. Still nothing like earlier today, but definitely not pleasant.

Loki glowered another second, then reentered the room, coming to stand close to Tony again.

"Any lasting damage?" He asked Tony with a bit of a bite to his voice.

"Nope, not on my end. Definitely sucked when you left the room though, we should save that for emergencies, like when one of us needs to shower or pee."

"Indeed," Loki smirked. "And now? Does this, as you so eloquently say, suck?"

"It's not pain-free like when you had a hold of my arm. My head's throbbing, but it isn't bad. You?"

"Also not pain free," Loki replied, but did not elaborate on exactly how much pain he was or was not in.

"Okay, then."

Well, fuck it, he had a feeling privacy was no longer a luxury either of them had from each other. He pulled back the covers and stood up, trying to ignore how exposed he felt standing in boxers in front of a god who could kill him with the flick of the wrist.

"I'll just, um, put on some clothes I guess," Tony said, walking past Loki and grabbing a pair of sweatpants.

He almost jumped and fell over as he felt Loki's hand come to rest on the back of his shoulder as he balanced on one foot, pulling his pants on over the other.

"Hey, you know, the headache isn't so bad, we probably don't have to be touching all the time."

"As you said, we should wait for emergencies. If it's convenient to be in contact, we should be. Why suffer pointlessly?" Loki kept a straight face, but Tony was fairly certain he was enjoying his discomfort. Not that he didn't make a fair point.

"Yeah, well, I'm kind of trying to get dressed here," he grumbled, starting to pull a t-shirt over his head.

"I'm not stopping you," Loki said evenly, and true to his word, as Tony got his head through the shirt and started to pull it down his torso, Loki dragged his hand down Tony's back, out of the way of the descending shirt, making Tony's spine stiffen in surprise. And yes, damn him, Loki was definitely smirking now, enjoying Tony's discomfort fully. Glaring for all he was worth, he spun around to face Loki and grabbed his leather-clad arm just above his elbow.

Much to his annoyance, the pain did not recede entirely.

"The fuck?" he muttered, staring at Loki's arm like it held the answers.

"Hmm. Perhaps skin to skin contact is required? No cloth as a barrier?" Loki wasn't smirking anymore, he seemed genuinely surprised as well that they weren't in the clear again.

"Okay, lose the leather and metal," Tony said testily. "I promise you don't need to be in full battle regalia for dinner."

Loki nodded and, pulling his arm away from Tony, began the elaborate process of unhooking his armor and untying the leather pieces. Deciding turnabout was fair play, and it was about Tony's turn to make Loki uncomfortable, he reached out and rested his hand around the side of Loki's neck.

Loki's head snapped around so fast that Tony was surprised he didn't get whiplash. He glared daggers at Tony, clearly furious, and Tony didn't even think he could have hid the surprise on his face if he had wanted to. He had expected to see annoyance, maybe embarrassment, at having Tony touch his neck while he undressed, but certainly not flat out anger, and definitely not the fear he could see flashing his eyes. After all, Tony was just trying to get him back for practically petting his back earlier, he wasn't intending to threaten him or scare him.

"Whoa, hey, chill out! That's the only bare skin you have available, okay? You're the one who said we should be in contact whenever we could, remember? Jeez…" Tony backpedaled, trying to keep Loki from losing his shit, which he looked close to doing.

He hadn't even taken his hand away yet, too frozen in place with surprise, but as soon as he realized that, he started to draw away. A headache was better than having his head ripped off by an angry god.

"Stop. It's fine," Loki breathed out with an averted gaze, as Tony's hand halted, hovering near Loki's neck. "You startled me, that is all. You are correct, we should be in contact if and when it is possible to do so."

"Uh, okay…" Tony said, surprised by the rapid mood swings. Hesitantly, he rested his hand on Loki's neck again, half expecting to have it torn off at the wrist.

Loki continued shedding armor, carefully ignoring Tony. Tony could feel his increased pulse in his neck though, and noticed how every so often, the muscles beneath his hand had tremors run through them.

Great, now he actually felt bad. Whatever the hell that was, he had clearly caused Loki more than just discomfort. He had no idea what kind of PTSD shit he was dealing with here, but Tony had done something to set it off. And, dammit, he knew how miserable that was. After Afghanistan, he could hardly get his head wet to take a shower without having flashbacks. He made a mental note to steer clear of Loki's general neck area in the future.

As Loki stripped off the last of his armor, he was left barefoot, in plain black trousers and a loose fitting, dark green tunic which he was currently rolling up the sleeves of to rest just above his elbows. He finally met Tony's eyes again.

"There you are. Plenty of bare skin to choose from," Loki said dryly. "Lead the way."

Tony sighed as he dropped his hand from Loki's neck to hold onto his arm, just beneath his elbow, as he started to lead them out of his room and down the hallway.

"Look, whatever that was earlier, whatever I did that bothered you so much, I'm sorry. Believe me or don't, but I swear it wasn't intentional."

Loki was studying his face out of the corner of his eye and actually looked a bit embarrassed. Yes, Tony was pretty sure he could see the faintest blush tint his cheeks.

"I'm the god of lies, I can tell when someone is or is not being deceitful. And even if I wasn't, you're easy enough to read. As I said before, you only startled me."

"Yeah, see, and I might not be a god of lies, but I can tell that's not the entire truth. Look, I've been there. Like you said earlier, maybe we do have a bit more in common. We all have scars, okay, some more visible than others. If you don't tell me what the hell that was about I won't know how to avoid doing it again in the future."

"I do not wish to speak of this now or ever."

"Loki, just tell me, then I won't –"

"Stop, Stark."

"Sometimes it helps to talk about it, you know."

"Stark," Loki snarled, spinning toward him, defensive posture in place once again. "I will only say this once more. STOP."

Tony decided maybe he should back off. He didn't like the look in Loki's eyes one bit, it reminded him a lot of the time he got thrown out of a window.

"Okay, well, no judgment here, that's all I'm saying. I've got shit that sets me off, too."

Loki didn't answer, just began walking down the hallway again, leaving Stark to either join him or lose his grip on Loki's arm.

As they neared the common area in the Avenger's Tower, he began to worry a tiny bit. He had no idea if any of his teammates were in the area, or how much they knew of this situation. They had to be aware of the curse, but did they know that Loki was currently in the tower? They should be ready to explain themselves…quickly. Like before Clint put an arrow through Loki's eye.

"So listen, I'm not sure who all's around and how exactly they'll react to seeing you. Or if they even know you're here. Just to warn you, we may have to talk fast."

"Banner was in your room when I arrived. We spoke at some length about the situation. I also briefly encountered your soldier when I first teleported in, but did not exchange pleasantries. He seemed somewhat startled, so if no type of alarm has been set off in the mean time, I would think that Banner must have informed at least him of our predicament."

"Oh. Good. Well, here we are, let's hope for the best then!"

And with no warning, Tony barged into the kitchen in the common rooms, pulling Loki behind by his arm.

Bruce and Steve were indeed present, watching the news on TV, along with Clint, who was openly staring at them, but was making no moves for his weapon.

"Hey gang! As you can see, everything's totally normal here. No reason to overreact…" Tony said with false cheerfulness, trying to alleviate some of the tension. Loki said nothing, but Tony noticed he was also standing slightly behind and closer than necessary to Tony, and appeared to be trying to look not threatening. Hah. Good luck with that one, buddy.

"I've filled the entire team, as well as Fury, in on everything. Everyone's in agreement, we have a ceasefire at least until this is solved," said Bruce, always the voice of reason. "Spaghetti's on the stove, help yourself," he added, settling back into the couch in front of the TV.

"Thanks, Bruce, I knew I kept you around for a reason," said Tony, leading Loki over to the stove.

Tony let go of Loki's arm to start pulling plates and silverware out, and managed not to jump this time when he felt Loki's long fingers wrap around his bicep, moving with his arm as he got their dinner together.

Tony felt Loki's fingers tighten and glanced up to see Natasha enter the kitchen. Loki was wedged into a corner of the room next to the stove and no doubt felt quite literally cornered. He held his ground though, face impassive.

"Boys," Natasha said in greeting to the room at large. She then turned to face Loki and pointed to a cabinet behind his head.

"Move or hand me a glass, please."

Loki wordlessly turned, fetched a glass with his free hand, and held it out to the assassin. She took it, filled it with orange juice from the fridge, and headed towards the elevator. Tony watched the whole exchange with something between amusement and horror. How was she that composed all of the time?!

"Later," she called out as the elevator doors closed behind her.

Tony picked up the two plates of food, moving towards the kitchen table and setting them down next to each other, Loki in tow the whole while. He sat down at one plate and looked up at Loki, waiting for him to follow suit. With marginal hesitation, he did sit down next to Tony and seemed to be watching him for further instruction.

With a tiny smile, he picked up his spoon and fork and began twirling spaghetti onto it.

"Go on then, just spin it," he said to Loki.

"It requires both hands. Unless we want more splitting headaches, I'll wait till you're finished."

Tony frowned, he felt mean eating while Loki sat there holding onto his arm while his pasta got cold. Inspiration struck and he pushed the side of his bare foot against the side of Loki's next to him.

"There. Eat," he said, feeling pleased with himself.

"You're going to be creative with this, I can tell," Loki said, actually letting a small smile sneak out.

They ate the rest of their meal in a surprisingly comfortable silence, edges of their feet pressed together the whole time. Tony finished first, and stretched back with a sigh, watching the TV on the other side of the room and patiently waiting for Loki to finish. Once he was, he set down his silverware and looked at Tony.

"Wanna watch TV with the team?" Tony asked him, grinning like an idiot.

Loki looked so miserable and borderline panicky at the thought that Tony had to laugh at him a bit.

"I'm kidding, don't worry. I'm exhausted anyways, I'd be asleep in five minutes," Tony said, standing up and taking hold of Loki's arm once more. "Come on, you've got to be tired, too."

Loki simply nodded and stood up to follow. He still seemed somewhat cowed by being surrounded by Avengers, and Tony found himself almost missing the snarky Loki. Of course, he supposed if he had been bound to an enemy who had already defeated him once, got stuck living with him and his entire team, had to eat their food at their table under their watchful eyes, and didn't even get to be on his original planet, he might handle it significantly worse. Actually, now that he thought about it, Loki had been pretty damn stoic.

"Night, guys," Tony said as they walked out together.

They arrived back at Tony's room before he knew it and were both standing next to the bed awkwardly. Or at least Tony felt awkward, Loki's face remained expressionless.

"Soo, how do you want to do this?" He asked Loki with a small cough. Once again, he could almost see the hint of a smirk on Loki's face as soon as he showed discomfort.

"To begin, I would recommend pulling back the covers and laying down."

"Yes, thank you Captain Smartass, I more meant how do you want to sleep?"

"I'm aware of what you meant. Lay down."

There was really no reason for Tony to feel as nervous as he did, he had probably had literally hundreds of people in this bed with him. Granted, none of them had tried to kill him or take over a planet. Or had been an immortal god. But still. No reason at all to be nervous.

"Fine, laying down," he snapped at Loki, letting go of his arm just out of spite as he pulled back the covers and got in.

Loki crossed to the other side of the bed, mirroring his actions, then rolled over onto his side, closer to Tony, and reached for his wrist.

"I sleep on my stomach," Tony said, shaking his wrist and Loki's hand a bit to make his point that he now couldn't turn over without crushing his arm.

"Fine," Loki replied, and quicker than Tony would have thought possible, he reached over him, grabbed his other wrist, and yanked hard enough to roll Tony over onto his stomach. "Comfortable?"

"Oh yeah, I'm great, thanks."

"Lovely. Go to sleep."

Tony sighed and tried to get comfortable and ignore the fact that they were lying close enough that he could feel Loki's breath on his face. He flipped his head the other direction and tried to shut off his brain long enough to slide into unconsciousness.


	5. Chapter Five

The Chitauri were on him again, dragging him away from the corner of the cell he was cowering in. Cowering like a kicked dog. Pathetic. He could feel the fear coursing through him, like ice in his veins and lead in his stomach. They began their torture anew, as they did every day, a few of them holding him down while others mercilessly tore at his skin, sometimes with tools, sometimes with their bare hands, sometimes even with their teeth. He held his screams back for as long as he could, but when one of them dug around in his wrist with a blade, until it was wedged under the tendons and veins there, then pulled straight out of him, tearing through everything in its path, his throat constricted and a hoarse shout left him.

He tried to wrench himself free and only succeeded in dislocating his other wrist, maybe breaking it, as the creature holding onto it twisted back against his fighting. Cold, clammy fingers trailed up his chest and he shuddered, knowing what was coming next. Their favorite game, it seemed. He lurched backwards, even though he knew it was futile, but there was no escaping. The hands latched around his throat so hard that he could feel the Chitauri's nails digging into his skin, felt the blood drip and begin to seep down towards his bare shoulders and gather in the hollows of his collar bones. Slowly, painfully, the fingers began to tighten. Loki looked up into the face of his captor, and though their expressions were limited, he could feel sadistic pleasure emanating off of him.

It was like someone slowly cranking a vice around his neck. At first, he could catch a breath, then only a shallow wheeze could make it to his lungs, then eventually, nothing. Not a single molecule could make it through his airways, and his lungs began to burn. His vision started to black out around the edges, his lips felt rubbery, and his extremities felt cold and he could tell his fingers were twitching. He felt his eyes begin to bug out of his head, straining in their sockets, was sure the vessels in them were bursting. He wanted to fight but couldn't seem to force his body to do anything, his mind was spiraling into panic, he couldn't breathe, he couldn't breathe, he couldn't fucking BREATHE.

Then just like that, just as he thought he was going to die, was going to finally escape this place in the only way that seemed possible, the hands around his neck loosened and air came rushing into his lungs. He coughed and gasped and trembled like a leaf in the wind, held up only by his captors. His vision cleared and he felt his eyes watering. He couldn't stop shaking.

Before he had even caught his breath, stopped panting, the hands were back. No warning, just one second he was sucking in as much air as was physically possible, the next second, his throat was clamped down on and he was paralyzed again, the panic and pain returning, the imminent death…

On and on this went, for hours, till he stopped fighting, stopped coughing when the hands let up, stopped responding to anything. It wasn't out of strength or bravery, his body and mind had just reached a point where they shut down. And then the Chitauri would grow bored, throw him back against the cell wall, maybe give a few last kicks for good measure, and leave him alone in the dark. Until the next day (or what Loki assumed was another day, he really had no way of knowing), and then they would return and begin again. It was a never-ending, excruciating, hopeless cycle. Every night before he slept, Loki wished for death, but every day, when the hands clamped around his throat and death began to creep closer, fear and self preservation kicked in and he wished for life.

His mind was a wreck, his body was a wreck, and he had no choice but to assume this was how he would spend the rest of his miserable life. This is how it would end.

The hands were back again, squeezing so hard he didn't know how his neck was still attached to his spinal column. But no, this wasn't right, he was still in his cell, it was still dark, no one else held him down. Yet he couldn't move. Couldn't do anything but feel the suffocation.

And then the hands around his throat were on his shoulders, shaking him, and instead of the wet cackle of the despicable creature, it was a deep voice murmuring indistinguishable things close to his ear.

Without him even making the decision to do so, his body snapped up right, air rushing into his lungs in a deep gasp. He looked around frantically, trying to get his bearings. He was in a room, not a cell. He was on a bed, not a stone floor. There was one firm hand on his shoulder and another resting against his back between his shoulder blades, nothing wrapped around his neck. And although it was dark, it wasn't pitch black. His vision slowly started to adapt to the dim room, alight only by a soft blue glow. He followed the glow to its source and could just make out the face of one Anthony Stark. Ah yes. Now he remembered.

"Loki? I said are you okay? It was just a nightmare, buddy. You're safe here."

Loki realized he was still shaking and couldn't quite find his voice yet. How humiliating. To have a bad dream in the home of his enemy, sleeping right next to his enemy, to show that kind of weakness….he felt shame wash over him like water. As he reflected on the dream he felt his eyes begin to burn, and he quickly turned his face away from Stark. His time with the Chitauri had been the worst of his rather long life. To be transported back there, to live through it again…it had shaken him. The helplessness, hopelessness he had felt was overwhelming in its intensity, and the fear lingered with him, even here, on another planet, right next to an Avenger who would undoubtedly put up quite a fight if those filthy creatures somehow managed to enter his tower.

But it didn't help. None of that logic helped him escape the dark despair of the dream, of his previous life. And now he was a captive once again, in a way. Now he was in a helpless position, with no end in sight. Trapped in a place he had no desire to be, around beings that loathed him, just waiting for someone to snap and go off on him. His eyes burned with more ferocity and the breaths he was sucking in began to shudder ever so slightly. He knew this feeling. He hadn't cried since those past tortures, but he could feel it welling up in him now, starting in his stomach and pushing upward, through his constricted throat and tightly closed eyes. Yet still it spilled forth, small tear tracks beginning to trail down his cheeks, his torso beginning to tremble with silent sobs.

He tried to stop, tried to spare himself the humiliation of crying in front of someone, particularly and Avenger, particularly Stark, but it was useless. All of the pent up emotion and turmoil since the rooftop, coupled with the dream, that horrific reminder of how bad things could get, had finally caught up with him, clawing their way out of him in the form of tears. Pathetic. What a pathetic creature he had become. He loathed himself in this moment.

He realized suddenly that though he was now awake, and even though he refused to speak or even look at Stark, the hand remained on his shoulder, now squeezing it gently, and the other hand had begun to move in small, slow circles on his shuddering back.

For a split second, he thought that this might be what it would be like to have someone who cared. Maybe to have a father who didn't shun him, a mother who wasn't afraid of him, a brother who didn't ridicule him in front of friends, a lover or friend who wasn't using him. Just someone. Maybe, for just a moment, he could pretend he had that. Maybe it wouldn't hurt anything, just this once, to forget where he was and who he was with and just accept whatever comfort he was being offered. He shut his eyes and slowly let his body relax, letting the methodical circles on his back lull his thoughts away from the dream, away from his miserable life.

It could be worse. He had to admit, it could be so much worse. They hadn't tortured him, no one had tried to hurt him (not even Barton, and if anyone had reason to, it was him), no one had humiliated him, they had even allowed him food. And Stark had even been, he had to admit, rather tolerable so far. Not even any of the jabs or taunts he would have expected. It could be worse.

Ever so slowly his breathing evened out, and his eyes began to dry. He tried to surreptitiously run his hand over his face to get rid of the tear tracks, but he was sure Stark noticed. He could feel the other man's eyes boring into the back of his head. He had no idea what to say, no idea how to explain the dark spiral he had found himself sliding down, no explanation that would settle the uncomfortable atmosphere in the room.

"Apologies," he finally managed to choke out, "if I awakened you." The embarrassment was back now, burning harshly against his cheeks.

"You don't have anything to apologize for," was Stark's neutral reply. "And you didn't wake me up, I was already awake."

Loki started at that. He had been awake? Had he been watching Loki's no doubt restless sleep? He could feel his embarrassment growing stronger with every heartbeat thumping hard in his chest.

"It's rather early for you to have awoken," he said, trying not to let his voice betray his new fears.

At this, Stark actually looked uncomfortable, and removed the hand on Loki's shoulder to rub his own neck. His other hand remained on Loki's back, the warmth radiating from it now in stark contrast to the cold seeping onto his shoulder where his hand had previously rested. He chastised himself the moment he realized he missed the warmth. Ridiculous.

"You're, uh….you're not the only one who has nightmares," Stark glanced up sheepishly at him and shrugged. "I dream about Afghanistan a lot. The time I spent there, building the first suit. The people I lost. It was a rough time for me, and even though I'm through it now, I still dream about it every so often. Tonight was one of those times."

Loki was staring at him with barely concealed surprise. Tony was staring right back at him and must have noticed his expression.

"So, what were you dreaming about?"

Loki swallowed hard. He could always lie. There had been plenty of horrible occurrences in his life, it wouldn't be hard to mention one of those that hit a bit less close to home for him. Or he could be honest. Blatantly draw one more parallel between the two of them. Link them in another way, as if they needed any more links after the spell. He weighed his options. He had never told anyone about the Chitauri, or what he had suffered by their hands. It was truly the lowest point in his life and he didn't enjoy dwelling on it, nor did he enjoy exposing his vulnerabilities that way. On the other hand, Stark hadn't mocked him yet, quite the contrary, he had woken him from the nightmare with soothing words and comforting gestures. Could he be trusted? Was it possible that Loki could put himself out there and not live to regret it? His rational mind told him to lie, but some shred of instinct not yet stamped into the ground by his life's experiences told him to be honest. For once, open himself up to another person, let himself heal in that way. Maybe it was the lingering effects of the dream still wrecking havoc with his mind and emotions, but he threw caution to the wind.

"The Chitauri. I was dreaming of the Chitauri. After…the war…they were displeased with the result, of course. I was being punished on Asgard when they came for me. They made Asgardian justice, which is quite a bit harsher than Midgardian justice, seem like child's play. I still dream of it often, dream that I'm back there, or that they come and find me again…" Loki trailed off, uncomfortable already with having shared as much as he did. He risked a glance up at Stark, expecting to see a satisfied smirk on that face. Stark would no doubt be pleased he had suffered after his attack on Midgard. Instead, he saw Stark's brow furrow, saw sadness in the lines around his eyes.

"I know nothing I say can make any of that better, and you might not even believe me when I say that I'm sorry that happened to you. But I really am. It's kind of an Earth thing, most of us are pretty anti-torture. It's inhumane. And believe me, I get it. I've been there. And I wouldn't wish it on anyone. But, look, just know that you're safe here, okay? No one's going to come for you here. And if those fucking inbreeds do show up, they're going to have a hell of a lot of firepower pointed at them, and that didn't go so well for them last time."

"If they came here for me, you would be a fool not to strike a deal with them. Hand me over as soon as this spell is broken."

"Spell or no spell, I wouldn't hand you over. And I wouldn't let anyone else. It's just wrong, it's immoral, it's not how we do things here."

"Then you are a fool," Loki found himself saying. Immediately he regretted the words. Iron Man himself was offering him protection and he was throwing it back in his face. He knew on some base level that it was a defense mechanism. Accept no help, trust no one, and so on. Experience had been a harsh teacher. But there was the tiniest sliver of hope in him that maybe, just this once, he could trust. And so he bit down hard on his tongue the second the words had left his mouth, chastising himself for ever speaking them. Why did he ruin everything?

"Well, that's not exactly a groundbreaking discovery," Stark said with a bark of laughter. "But fool or not, you have my word, we won't be handing you over to anyone."

Loki was staring at him, expression guarded, but seemingly unable to look anywhere else. Stark had certainly caught him off guard with this late night chat. When he realized he was staring rather blatantly, he dropped his gaze to where his hands rested on the blanket atop his legs. He could see his fingers were still trembling ever so slightly. That seemed to be a recurring thing after these nightmares.

Next to him Stark sighed and patted him lightly on the back with the hand that was still resting there.

"Come on, this is still the time of night when normal people are asleep. Let's try to get a few more hours before morning."

Stark slumped back onto the bed, lying on his back and waiting for Loki to lay back too. He finally let out a sigh himself and slowly eased back down, feeling far more vulnerable than he had when they had first laid down to sleep. He felt Stark scoot closer to him, so that their forearms to their wrists were brushing, keeping contact and keeping the pain of the spell at bay.

He knew the only reason that Stark was touching him was for the spell, but he couldn't help but take some comfort from the contact, even if that wasn't it's intended purpose.

Eventually, he heard Stark's breathing even out and knew that the mortal man was asleep. He tried to relax his mind and go back to sleep as well, but every time he closed his eyes, he was assaulted by memories of the dream and those vile creatures. Shivering, his eyes snapped open again, staring up at Stark's ceiling. Turning his head, he risked a glance at him. His eyes were closed, mouth slightly open, and he could see the rise and fall of Stark's glowing chest with each breath. Deciding that Stark was well and deep asleep, he slowly began inching closer, seeking that comforting touch again. Eventually the entire side of his torso was pressed against Stark's arm, his hip leaned into Stark's slightly, and the sides of their legs rested lightly against each other.

Loki let out a long breath he didn't even know he had been holding. This time, when he closed his eyes, instead of thinking of the Chitauri, he forced himself to focus on the feel of another person next to him, to remember Stark slowly rubbing circles into his back to calm him down, and the promise of safety that he so desperately wanted to have faith in.


	6. Chapter Six

When Loki woke up and opened his eyes, he found himself staring at an unfamiliar ceiling. It took him roughly one second to remember where he was and the events of the previous night. Looking over, he saw Stark also on his back, their bodies pressed together from shoulder to knee (unfortunately not Stark's doing, he had to admit), but fortunately the man was still asleep.

He slowly edged himself slightly away, leaving their arms touching and nothing else. He was relieved that he had woken first, saving himself the embarrassment of Stark knowing he had practically cuddled up to him.

Still looking at Stark's sleeping form, he was afforded the rare opportunity to examine the glowing circle in his chest, normally hidden by clothes. Apart from the fact that it seemed to protect Stark from possession, at least by way of his staff, he knew nothing about it. He had to admit the soft blue glow was rather mesmerizing. Studying Stark's face once more to confirm that he was still asleep, Loki rolled up onto his side to get a better angle to view the strange object. Looking down on it, he could see more details of the shape. There was a smaller circle in the middle with multiple spokes coming out from it. The center seemed to glow more brightly than the rest…

He leaned closer, drawn in by the light that seemed to grow brighter the longer he looked at it. Without much thought, he reached towards it, resting two fingers in the center. The circle almost seemed to buzz against his skin, not dissimilar to magic. A more mechanical energy, certainly, not the untameable rush that was magical energy, but there was something there.

Fascinated, he dragged his fingers to the edge, tracing around where metal met flesh, trying to see how it was connected.

He was disrupted by a shout, and the torso beneath his fingers jolting up and away from his hand.

"What the fuck, Reindeer Games?" Stark shouted at him, eyes wide, chest rising and falling with rapid breaths.

"I-"

"No. No. I don't even care. Just don't. That is absolutely off limits. Never, ever touch my reactor again, got it?

Loki stared, slightly taken aback by Stark's violent reaction. His eyes seemed alight with anger and a significant amount of fear.

"I apologize. It interested me, so I looked more closely at it. I didn't realize-"

"Oh, it interested you, okay, I'm sorry, you're right, that gives you every right to start pawing at it!"

"I wasn't pawing at anything, Stark, it hums with energy I'm unfamiliar with, I simply wanted to-"

"I don't care if it hummed your goddamn name out loud to you, don't fucking touch it."

"Why not? What is it?"

Loki was legitimately intrigued now. Anything important enough to Stark to set him off this badly was worthy of his interest.

"None of your fucking business, that's what. All you need to know about it is that it is mine, I created it, it stays where it fucking is, and you don't go anywhere fucking near it. Understand?"

"Well, no, not really. It clearly is a power source. But if it was simply a power source for your suit, it would be built into your suit, not into your person, no? So what is it, Stark? What is its purpose? I've been curious about it ever since it protected you during my first visit to this tower…"

"Yeah, a visit during which you, one, tried to take over my mind, and two, threw me out of a goddamned window. So forgive me for not wanting to tell you all of my secrets."

"That was quite a long time ago. I believe you and your team agreed many months ago that I was not entirely myself then? The fact is, your…reactor, did you call it? Yes, your reactor has an energy to it not unlike magic. Magic does not exist in this realm and cannot be wielded by Midgardians. As magic is my expertise, I would appreciate an explanation."

"Too damn bad. It's not magic, I'll tell you that much. So you can feel free to back right off about it."

"Why does it glow?"

"What about this conversation are you not getting? I don't want to talk about it, it doesn't concern you, leave it."

This was a game Loki could play all day. As the god of lies, verbal sparring and dragging out facts that people would rather keep hidden was right up his alley. Especially when the secret was so alluring. It practically made him feel like his old self, drawing out the truth bit by bit. He smiled.

"Well, in a way, it does concern me. It glows very brightly at night. Quite difficult to sleep with it lighting up the entire room. So an explanation of it's significance-"

"Oh, yeah right, I'm sure it's the nightlight that's making it difficult to sleep, not those debilitating nightmares of yours. I'm sure if it wasn't for my reactor, you would have slept like a baby last night…" Stark trailed off, smirk fading, as he looked back at Loki's face, which was morphing from borderline playful to downright furious.

He could feel the anger bubbling up in him. Of course Stark would use last night's incident against him. Of course he would throw that back into Loki's face. He had been an absolute fool to divulge anything at all to Stark last night, never would have if he hadn't been so vulnerable from reliving those horrors, if Stark hadn't opened up to him first, if Stark hadn't been rubbing his back...

He surprised even himself by the amount of betrayal he felt at having his weakness thrown back in his face. This is why he couldn't trust anyone. This is why he was better off alone. Because it didn't matter if it was family, a friend, a soul mate, if such a thing even existed, no one could truly be trusted. In the end, the only one he could trust was himself. He should be ashamed for ever divulging anything to this man.

He refocused his glare on Stark, trying to mask his hurt with his anger.

"Might I remind you, Stark, that I am a god. I possess powers you could never even dream of. I can end your pathetic existence with the snap of my fingers. I've been benevolent so far in this miserable predicament, but push me, and you won't like how hard I will push back. I don't have any particular desire to murder you, but please do not mistake one tired moment of misjudgment for any sort of weakness to be exploited."

Stark's face was deceptively impassive, but Loki could see the man's pulse pounding rapidly in his neck and his nostrils flaring with quick, shallow breaths.

"Loki, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to say that. You just startled me, I wasn't think-"

"No, clearly you were not thinking. You also clearly weren't thinking when you refused to answer my extraordinarily reasonable question about the object in your chest. Surely you realize, one way or another, that if I want an answer I shall get one."

"Hey, you're in the Avenger's Tower, surrounded by the team that already defeated you once, I'd be more careful about making threats. Do I need to call your dear brother in here?"

Fury still boiling in his blood, although he had to admit it was aimed in equal parts at Stark and himself, he still felt the need to prove he had no weakness. To prove he was not someone to be betrayed without consequence. And to prove (partly to himself, if he was honest), that even though he might be on the Avenger's soil, Stark did not have the upper hand on him. This bond was horrible enough, practically making him claustrophobic with how trapped he felt in it, without having Stark dangling threats over him.

He and Stark were sitting upright on the bed now, facing one another, both having taken on more defensive positions during the argument.

With a snarl, Loki put both hands on Stark's shoulders and shoved him down onto his back using one hand to hold both of his wrists over his head, and pressing a shin across Stark's thighs, leaning over him and effectively pinning him down.

Stark's eyes were wide as saucers, staring up at him in shock. Clearly he had thought Loki was tame now, thought he could be manipulated, be bullied, after just one bad night and one fucked up binding spell, he thought he had some sort of power over him. Loki hated to feel weak. Hated to feel manipulated. Certainly hated to feel bullied. And most of all, hated to be ashamed. And he was ashamed. Horribly ashamed that he had opened up to Stark, and with so little effort on the man's part. A gentle touch on his back, whispered words of comfort, clearly all a ruse now, and Loki had cracked, his story spilling forth. The god of lies, fooled by a mortal with the subtlety of a brick. Pathetic.

He focused back on the man he had pinned, making eye contact briefly and enjoying the fear in Stark's eyes, before dropping his gaze to the reactor in his chest. He reached out and laid his fingers upon it again, taking a moment to savor the buzzing energy it was emitting, before resuming his path from earlier, tracing his fingers around the edge of it.

Stark jumped under his hand, torso twisting, but couldn't move away. It took virtually no effort on Loki's part to hold him down. He might not be as strong as Thor, but his strength certainly still far surpassed that of a Midgardian.

"Loki, please don't," Stark gasped out, panic lacing his voice. "I'll tell you what it does, just don't touch it, let go…"

Loki looked back at Stark's face and smirked at the fear there, too pleased by this redemption of last night's humiliation to really take into account how much panic was dancing in those eyes.

"Please don't trouble yourself, at first I was hoping to hear from you what it did, but now, I'm more inclined to figure it out for myself. Now stay still," Loki breathed out, mischief dancing in his eyes.

He spread his hand out so that it covered the entire object, then gripped his fingers around the edge. He would take it out, examine it, let the mortal sweat for a minute, and return it to him. He would have his answers, would make Stark aware of the fact that, spell or no spell, he had no control over Loki, and would cause no real harm, just a healthy dose of fear on the part of the other.

Tightening his fingers, he began to pull.

****************

Tony felt Loki's fingers spread out across the reactor and felt panic wash over him in a wave. This was it, Loki was going to kill him. Finally one of his stupid, half assed remarks had been too much, and now he was going to die for it. He had been so idiotic to think that he and Loki could work together to figure this out, that they might be able to have some sort of truce, that he might be able to trust Loki for at least long enough to break the spell.

And now the fingers were tightening around the edges and he felt a horrible, gut-wrenching sensation of the arc reactor being tugged on. He felt every fraction of a millimeter of movement, felt metal scrape metal and tug on his skin, felt his heart rate accelerate to the point that it was a miracle he wasn't in cardiac arrest already.

"Stop!" He gasped, "Stop, Loki please, please, you're going to kill me, please don't do this, God, Loki, wait, please…" he begged his stream of consciousness out loud, too freaked out to form coherent sentences. Panic was sweeping over him, making him feel too hot and too cold all at once, making his pulse pound in his ears and his breath come in short bursts. His throat seemed to be getting tight, making him choke on his own words and he could feel his wrists twitching in Loki's grasp.

Loki halted his movements, and looked back at Tony's face, a tiny bit of confusion written in his features. He seemed to finally take into account how panicked the man lying beneath him was, and looked back down at the reactor, then back at Tony's face.

"Stark, don't be dramatic. I'm not going to kill you, I just want to look at it, I'll give it back."

"If you take it out, I'll die before you could even hope to put it back," Tony said, still terrified, but able to form somewhat coherent thoughts now that Loki seemed to be listening to him, and didn't seem set on killing him right in this instant.

Loki recoiled violently at Tony's words, as though he had been struck, immediately letting go of the reactor, although not yet letting off Tony's wrists or legs.

"How is that possible? What is this? Other mortals don't require one to live," Loki said, meeting Stark's eyes and looking genuinely puzzled, and maybe even a tiny bit regretful.

"No, others don't. I do. I have pieces of shrapnel, sharp metal, in my chest. The arc reactor prevents them from migrating into my heart and shredding it. It's a magnet. It's just a complicated fucking magnet, but if you take it out, I will die. So please, please leave it where it is," Tony said, his breathing evening out slightly now that it seemed clear that Loki had never intended to kill him. Scare the shit out of him, yes, manhandle him into submission, yes, but maybe not actually kill him. Actually, now that Stark had a chance to study his face since it seemed Loki had given up on touching the reactor, he was pretty sure he could see a tiny bit of remorse and uncertainty creeping into his features.

"Ah. In that case, I believe my actions were perhaps more threatening than I had originally intended."

"No shit," Tony breathed.

Loki glared at him for the comment, but it lacked the malice of a few moments prior, for which Tony was incredibly grateful. Now that he had a moment to reflect, he was feeling worse and worse about his comment that had set this whole thing off. Really, it wasn't fair of him to harass Loki about the nightmare thing. After all, Tony was practically an expert on them, and knew how exhausting and emotionally draining they could be. And he had certainly felt embarrassed before when anyone caught a glimpse of them, even if it had only ever been Pepper or Bruce. So to have a total stranger, once enemy, even, bare witness to one…yeah, he could see how that would be upsetting. And he knew from what Thor told him that Loki already had issues with inferiority and trust. Tony doubted he had helped things with his wiseass comment.

"Look, what I said earlier, I really am sorry. I didn't mean it, you just had me a little defensive with all of the reactor stuff," Tony said. It was as good of an apology as he was capable of.

Loki glared at him, but with none of the ferocity from earlier.

"I understand," was all he said. But his eyes looked blank, his face seemed closed off, and his lips were in a very thin line.

No, Tony didn't think he understood at all. Somehow he felt like he had crossed some invisible line in the sand, had somehow done more damage than he realized. But he didn't have a clue as to how to fix it. Or if he even wanted to. This whole incident had made him feel that perhaps it would be better if they kept as much distance...metaphorically speaking, of course…between them as possible.

Loki was still staring down blankly at him, still halfway hunched over him, when Tony began to notice how much his shoulders and wrists were aching. Being pinned by an immobile god while trying to thrash around was apparently rough on one's joints. He shifted his hips and shoulders a bit, trying to help some of the strain they were under.

Loki seemed to snap out of it when Tony moved, gracefully swinging his leg off of Tony's and letting go of one wrist, using his hand wrapped around the other to pull Tony upright once more. He left his hand gripped around Tony's wrist, but in a loose enough grasp that had Tony wanted to pull away, he would have been able to.

Tony rolled his shoulders a few times, and bent and flexed his legs, trying to loosen everything back up. Loki's strength was actually mildly frightening.

"I've marked you," Loki said, breaking the uncomfortable silence with a somewhat equally uncomfortable statement. Tony blinked at him.

"Um, what?"

"Your wrists," Loki clarified, looking down at them. Tony followed suit, and saw that purple bruises were indeed forming around his wrists where Loki had crushed them with his grip.

"Oh. Marked. Right. Well, I've certainly had worse, don't worry too much about it," Tony said, but don't fucking do it again, he thought.

"I can heal them, if you will allow it," Loki offered, like it was the most normal thing in the world.

"What do you mean, heal them?" Tony asked, puzzled by what was apparently being offered.

"Not all magic is destructive. There are healing spells, as well. It would be simple to heal bruises such as these," Loki explained, "But I believe I've done enough this morning without your consent, so I did want to ask before I did anything else."

Tony stared at him. Honestly, mood swings much? One moment he's a big ball of fury, snarling and threatening, the next he's offering to heal him, but only with his permission. Well, better late than never.

"Um, it's really no big deal, I didn't even notice-"

"It won't hurt."

Tony stared at Loki, and Loki stared back at Tony with something that almost looked pleading in his eyes. Like he actually hoped Tony would let him heal him with his voodoo shit. Well, fine, if he was so determined, so be it.

"Okay dude, whatever, have at it."

Loki wrapped his long fingers around both of Tony's wrists, gently this time, although it still made his stomach lurch and his pulse jump, and closed his eyes. If he felt Tony's change in pulse, he was kind enough not to comment.

Then, as Tony looked at Loki's hands wrapped around his wrists, he saw green light begin to engulf them. His eyes widened of their own accord. Sure, he knew Loki could do magic, he had even witnessed it a few times, but it was another thing entirely to have it affect him so directly.

His wrists were tingling, not in an entirely unpleasant way either, and a soothing cool feeling was spreading over them. Slightly awed, he watched as the bruises faded away in a matter of seconds. Loki opened his eyes back up, and lifted Tony's wrists up to eye level, turning each one over and examining it, bending each of the joints, and finally, releasing them back to Tony.

"Any lingering pain?"

"Uh, nope," Tony said, still somewhat shocked by the whole experience, "All good, thanks very much."

"Don't thank me too much, I was the cause of it to begin with," Loki said dryly. "And your legs? Are they harmed as well?"

Tony stared at him, trying to imagine Loki's tingly magic creeping around his upper thighs where his shin had pinned Tony down, and nope, no thank you, that did not need to happen. A few bruises were really no big deal.

"Ah, no, all good down there, thanks," Tony said quickly.

Loki was eyeing him suspiciously. Tony stared back trying to look innocent. Because, in fact, his legs hurt worse than his wrists did and he was fairly certain they would be bruised worse as well.

"I find that difficult to believe. I was leaning more heavily on your legs than on your wrists."

"I guess I just have strong legs. Nothing to worry about. Are you hungry? Let's get break-"

"Stark. I will not have you suffer like a martyr due to one ridiculous argument. I can heal something as simple as bruises through your clothes if that's what you're so worried about."

"Worried? I'm not worried. I'm fine. I just don't really feel the need to heal my legs when they already feel this great."

Loki tilted his head back with an exasperated sigh, then leaned forward, without his consent, Tony noted dryly, and placed one hand on each leg, just below what Tony believed constituted dangerous territory.

"Really not necess- ungh!" Tony grunted, as the tingling started anew. And yep, it was as uncomfortable as he had thought it would be. He really didn't need a criminal mastermind putting his tingly magic anywhere near below the belt on him, but he hadn't been given much of a choice.

Thank god for small favors, Tony thought, as he saw that once again Loki's eyes were closed and he seemed too focused on the green magic flowing out of his hands to notice much else. Meanwhile, Tony was trying his best not to let out a moan, or anything equally embarrassing. Because really, that was a pretty exquisite feeling. So good it made him want to slam his head backwards into the wall, repeatedly, until he fell unconscious and got out of this ridiculously uncomfortable situation.

Quicker than expected, it was over, tingles fading, and Loki opening his eyes and removing his hands.

"After you have breakfast," Loki said, apparently completely unaffected by the entire situation, "I need to continue work on breaking the spell. I have a number of texts at my apartment that may prove useful, and I would leave to work on it alone, but I'll be able to focus much better if I'm clearheaded and not in pain. So, I will teleport us both there."

Tony stared at him as though he had grown two heads. Teleport? To some mystery enemy apartment? Alone with said enemy? Danger, Will Robinson, danger.


	7. Chapter Seven

Tony winced as he crunched down on another spoonful of cereal. Really, he should have picked a more low profile breakfast food. Every time he chewed, it sounded like machine gun fire in the otherwise silent kitchen.

Loki sat next to him, elbow resting on the back of Tony's chair, hand resting on the bare skin above the collar of his t-shirt. He wasn't eating, wasn't speaking, and seemed to be doing his best to ignore Tony's existence altogether.

The atmosphere between them had been…tense…to say the least after the incident that morning. Tony had apologized (kind of), and had admitted that it was a low blow to bring up the nightmare, something Loki had had no control over, and to try to use that against him. Likewise, Loki had apologized (kind of) for nearly ripping out Tony's built-in, handcrafted, life support system. Yet still, something had shifted in the dynamic between them. What had started off as begrudging, but mutual trust had turned into mutual distrust and betrayal, and the tension in the room now was so thick that Tony thought he could cut it with a knife. Probably a butter knife wouldn't even do the job, he was thinking it would be more of a steak knife situation. Or maybe a meat cleaver.

Even after Loki had healed his bruises, Tony was still uncomfortable around him. Not afraid, he would never admit to being afraid of anyone, but he was definitely edgy. Having the enormous difference in their physical strength (while Tony was outside of the suit, at least) brought to light was intimidating, not to mention the fact that the magic trick Loki had pulled afterwards had left Tony confused and questioning everything he had ever learned about science. It brought into very sharp focus just how easily Loki could kill him, should his patience with Tony run out.

Tony couldn't blame Loki entirely for the current tension, though; he knew he had royally fucked up when he called Loki out on his nightmare. He had seen something that Loki would probably never have willingly allowed anyone any knowledge of. Ever. It was only because of the damn curse that Tony happened to bear witness to it. And then, shockingly, Loki had opened up to him about it. He had put his cards on the table, leaving himself vulnerable, and Tony had abused that. He wished he could take it back. How long must it have been since Loki had trusted anyone like that? And now, the one time that he had, the one time someone had happened to be there when he was tired and miserable and lonely and scared and willing to open up, the person he put his trust in had used it against him.

So, as Tony took another bite of cereal with an echoing crunch between his ears that felt like it would deafen him, he tried to make amends. After all, they were stuck together, literally, for the foreseeable future…unless Loki got so pissed off that he threw caution to the wind and just killed him, which was a definite possibility.

"So, ah, Loki, just wanted to say, despite the fact that I was a total ass this morning, what I said last night still stands. You know, torture bad, Avengers good, we won't turn you over….that stuff. So yeah. Just wanted to be clear on that."

Loki was still not making eye contact with him, choosing instead to examine his fingernails on the hand not currently resting on Tony's neck.

"What makes you think I would ever require the help of mortals? I am a god, if I am unable to stop them, you certainly won't be of any use."

Tony felt a muscle in his jaw twitch. Fucking hypocrite. Okay. Loki wanted to go back to snarky, he could do snarky. He could do snarky all day.

"Yeah, I mean, I'm sure it was a total fluke that last time you were here good ol' Bruce threw a temper tantrum that left you wrecked, and I literally single handedly nuked an army of evil aliens. So sure, what use could we possibly be? And, of course, you certainly seemed capable of handling those pesky Chitauri all on your own last time. Not like they ever got the upper hand on you or anything. I mean, it's not like having allies on your side might help prevent that whole torture, brainwashing, mayhem business-"

"You have more than made your point!" Loki ground out.

His face was once again a mask, his only tell was the tightening of his lips and the slightly haunted look in his eyes as he gazed across the kitchen. Somehow Tony didn't think he was really gazing at anything in the kitchen. Nope, Tony had sent Loki's gaze worlds away, to some dark corner of the universe that Tony probably couldn't even imagine. And now he was back in his familiar state of feeling like a huge asshole.

Why could he not just let things go? He could clearly see that Loki's haughty, snarky remarks were a defense mechanism. Hell, Tony could see it because he had the same one. So why could he not just give the guy a break, why did he have to keep pushing him, each and every time?

He leaned back in his chair and sighed. Somehow he didn't think Loki would hear an apology even if he shouted it into his ear at this point. Better just to move on and try to keep his mouth shut next time.

"So, your apartment. Because apparently, you have an apartment. With books and stuff. Let me just tell one of the team that I'm headed out with you, and I'll grab some stuff, and we can go."

************

Loki sighed as he stood next to Stark, hand on his arm, as the mortal zipped up a bag. He was sincerely hoping that they wouldn't be at his apartment long enough for Stark to need an entire bag of clothing, but he was learning to pick his battles. If Stark wanted to bring a bag, so be it.

Sitting next to the bag was the suitcase that contained his armor. Loki was less than thrilled about Stark bringing the suit along, but could hardly fault him for it. In fact, Loki would have thought him a fool for coming to an undisclosed location with a former (somewhat) enemy, alone and unarmed.

"Okay, ready," Stark said. "Let's go back out to the living room, see if anyone's around so I can assure them that I'm going with you of my own free will."

As they entered to common area, Loki almost groaned out loud. Of course, of all of the Avengers they could possibly encounter, it had to be his dear brother.

Thor looked up as they entered, a wide smile splitting his face.

"Brother! It is good to see you, even under these unfortunate circumstances! How are you faring? Man of Iron, you look well! I am happy to see you both aiding each other in the challenge you face!"

"For the last time, I am not your broth-"

"Hey big guy," Tony cut him off before he could go off on Thor adequately, "yep, Loki and I are doing swell, keeping each other nice and pain-free, now we're about to run over to his place to look through some old dusty books in hopes of ditching this spell so that we don't have to spend the rest of our lives snuggling. Could you go ahead and let the rest of the team know where we're at?"

Thor was now looking back and forth between the two of them nervously. At the same time, a throat cleared behind them. Loki and Tony whipped around to see Captain America standing there, looking skeptical.

"You're doing what, Tony?" The Captain asked incredulously.

"Man of Iron, are you sure this is wise? Perhaps myself or another of our teammates should accompany you…" Thor said, sounding guilty.

"Oh, so little faith in me, Odinson? I assure you, I have no dastardly plans regarding your precious Iron Man," Loki sneered at him. He would never admit it, but Thor's unwillingness to trust him with Stark's well-being stung for some reason. He hadn't made any overly aggressive moves towards any of the Avengers recently, he had begun to think that, perhaps, he wasn't seen quite so much as the villain any longer. Clearly that hope was unfounded.

"Brother, I do trust you, but even you must realize that with your history with this team, it might be better if Stark was not to go alone with you," Thor said, not meeting Loki's eyes.

"Agreed," the Captain said. "Tony, you can't just leave with him by yourself, it's too risky. Things have been fine with him here, because he's held accountable by the rest of us for anything he tries with you, but I don't want you alone with him. End of discussion."

Loki was exceedingly glad that he had healed the visible bruises left by his and Stark's last altercation. He couldn't imagine that it would help his case any should the rest of the team find out that he had pinned the man down and nearly ripped his life source out of his chest. He felt a surge of guilt at the memory, immensely relieved that Stark's mouth seemed to be unable to stop moving, even while in mortal peril. There's no doubt things would have gotten very ugly had he accidentally murdered him.

However, close call or not, he refused to let another Avenger into his home. His sanctuary. It was hard enough for him to allow Stark in, anyone else, particularly Thor, would be unbearable.

"Guys," Stark was saying now, "it will be fine. Honestly, I'm bringing the suit, and I can take care of myself."

Loki saw him swallow and shoot an almost nervous glance his way, although it happened so fast he was certain no one else would have picked up on it. Clearly, Stark was remembering the helpless situation he had been in this morning. Loki was immensely relieved that Stark didn't seem to want to bring it up.

"Tony, be reasonable! You would be worried if it was any of us going with him, and we're all stronger than you are!"

The Captain most likely didn't mean his words to be insulting, but from the way Stark recoiled, Loki was certain that they had been. Loki begrudgingly realized he could empathize. Never strong enough to be of real use to anyone, always a burden, always second best…he shook himself out of those thoughts. No point in dwelling on those things now.

"Oh, I see. So it doesn't matter what I do. What I accomplish. It doesn't matter that I single handedly flew a nuke into space and saved the planet, or that I've created some of the most advanced tech humanity has ever seen, I'm still just a weak little man in a suit. I'll never quite live up to a super human serum or a god or an assassin-"

"Tony, don't twist my words, you know that's not how I meant it."

"Enough!" Loki snapped. "It is not your decision. It is mine and Stark's alone. I will be returning to my home, where all of the resources that could possibly fix this are available to me. Stark, and only Stark, is invited to accompany me. If he would rather stay here, I'm certain we can both survive a few days in pain. If he would rather come along, I'm sure we can cohabitate peacefully for long enough to solve this. Either way, it is no one's decision but his."

Loki was so busy glaring at Thor and Captain America that it took him a moment to realize that Stark was staring at him, mouth slightly open, with something that looked like a blend of shock and gratitude on his face. Stark seemed to snap out of it quickly, turning to face his teammates once again, looking pissed.

"Right. What he said. And I'm going with him, end of story. I'll have my cell if there's an emergency, otherwise, kindly leave me the fuck alone so that we can try to fix this," Stark said all of this quickly, as though he just needed to get the words out, before turning to Loki. "So, want me to drive us? Or I can fly and meet you there?"

"That won't be necessary," Loki said, "I'm recovered enough that teleporting should be no issue."

"Teleporting…like, both of us? Together? You can do that? Without dismembering me?" Stark was looking torn between apprehension and curiosity.

"Certainly," he smirked.

The Captain looked murderous, while Thor simply looked resigned.

"Teleporting. Wow. Cool. Bruce is going to be so jealous. Alright, let's go then," Tony said, huffing out a disbelieving laugh. He picked up the suitcase containing his armor in one hand and his bag of absolutely unnecessary amounts of clothing in the other, and turned to Loki, looking him in the eye.

Loki looked back at him, reading the mortal carefully. He could see the blatant curiosity and excitement in Stark's eyes, the scientist in the man shining clearly through. He was, however, nervous as well, the tenseness of his jaw and slight creasing in his forehead giving him away. But for whatever reason, he had chosen to place his trust in Loki, at least for the moment. It was rare that anyone placed any faith in him, and strangely enough, Loki found himself wanting to keep it, rather than betray it. Something inside of him twisted and he swallowed, focusing back on Stark.

Without further ado, he stepped closer to Stark and placed both hands on his shoulders, gripping tightly.

"Take a deep breath and hold it in until we arrive. Normally I would recommend closing your eyes, but I think you might actually enjoy seeing this," he told Stark with a genuine smile. If any mortal would get a thrill out of seeing all of the pathways of the universe for a moment, it would be Stark.

Stark smiled a bit at that, and Loki was glad to see the excitement beginning to outweigh the apprehension written on his face. As soon as Loki saw Stark take a deep breath and hold it in, he focused on the living room of his apartment and let his magic swirl around both of them, pulling them away.

************

Teleporting was, by far, the most amazing experience Tony had ever had. Better than flying in the suit for the first time, better than the first hot meal post-Afghanistan, better than getting high, better than sex, better than anything. He was immeasurably glad Loki had told him to keep his eyes open. His instinct would most likely have been to shut them tight, and it almost made him cry to think about what he would have missed seeing.

It probably only lasted a few seconds at most, but he could see everything. Entire galaxies laid out before him, and he could see it all. Not just what he would see from his own two eyes, it felt like he was made entirely of eyes, looking in every direction all at once, from every angle, seeing everything currently in existence. He felt weightless, huge and tiny at the same time, euphoric.

It only lasted a moment, and Tony wished there was some way to make it go on forever. To be able to see every place in the universe and to be able to just choose one and spring into existence there. It was about to crack his feeble human mind in two. He found himself simultaneously so envious of Loki and so incredibly grateful to him to share this with Tony, to let him experience something so profound. He had a brief moment of insanity where he thought that maybe he did believe in a god after all, and maybe that god was the being holding onto his shoulders, showing him the universe in the blink of an eye.

Then his feet hit the ground hard and he reeled. His hands loosened and something fell from them, his vision got all spotty, and his entire body turned to jelly. He felt himself collapsing, although it could have just been vertigo…then something was wrapping tightly around his torso and he was pulled forward so that his head and chest were pressed firmly against solid warmth, while the rest of him dangled limply and he just couldn't bring himself to care.

Gradually he became reoriented, first by realizing that something soft was tickling his face. When he opened his eyes, he focused blearily on a few black, soft wisps brushing gently over his face. Moving his eyes around, which was all he had energy for, he could make out green fabric and black leather and pale skin.

Loki. He was being held in a deathgrip-hug against Loki. Loki, who had just rocked his entire world view by teleporting him. Holy shit, he had just teleported and seemed to have survived it. Go figure.

His still sluggish brain's ramblings were cut short by an exasperated sigh as Loki shifted him a bit in his arms.

"Stark, there is a perfectly good couch 6 yards away that you are most welcome to recover on if you could gather yourself enough to stand up."

"Um, yeah, working on it…" Tony muttered, trying to get his legs beneath his body to bear weight. Now that all five senses seemed to have returned to him, he was a bit embarrassed that he was currently an uncoordinated mess, supported only by Loki's arms. Finally, his legs seemed to fall into the correct position, braced straight between his hips and the floor. Good.

"Okay, good, I'm good…" Tony said, still having a bit of a hard time stringing full sentences together.

Loki let him go, leaving only a light hand on his arm, and Tony turned to move towards the couch to his right. Unfortunately, as soon as he shifted his weight, vertigo hit him again and he started to tip over, falling face first towards a metal and glass credenza that looked extremely unforgiving.

"Fuck!" he yelped, and braced himself for a lacerated face.

The face-first crash never happened however, as once more, arms latched around him and he was pulled back against Loki. Yet again, Loki's hair was tickling his face, and he felt more amused than anything. A year ago, he would have reacted much differently to having his forehead resting in the crook of Loki's neck and shoulder. Now, instead of assuming death was imminent, he was just embarrassed to have made an ass out of himself.

"Whoops. Thanks," Tony breathed out, to which Loki only sighed. Without further ado, Tony felt Loki bend his knees slightly, hook an arm around the back of Tony's thighs, and brace his shoulder at Tony's waist.

"Hey, whoa there! What-" but before Tony could reprimand him for putting completely inappropriate moves on him, Loki had already stood up, lifting Tony over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

Tony couldn't even form words as the surrealism of the situation hit him. The dizziness was back full force now that his head was inverted, and his main concern at the moment was not throwing up all over Loki's back. And ass. Tony now had a direct view of Loki's ass, and all he could think was that he really needed to invest in a pair of black leather pants, because there was no way an ass could possibly look better. Slide a pair of those on before he hit the bars and he would have to fight off suitors with a stick. More so than normal, even. Somewhere in the back of his mind he realized that that train of thought meant he was admiring Loki's ass, but he would deal with that another time. When he didn't have a teleportation hangover.

With a small grunt, Loki was flipping Tony forward and he felt his back sink into what he could only assume was the couch. Without another word, Loki moved his legs up onto the couch as well, and then walked away. It took Tony's mind a second to catch up. Hey. Loki stopped touching him. Hey. Headache. Hey.

"Hey!" Tony groused from his position on the couch. "What happened to keeping in contact with each other? I thought that was the point of me coming along? To avoid the whole pain thing?"

"One moment, Stark. I thought we had established being in the same room was tolerable? I'm only getting a few texts, I wasn't going to carry you over my shoulder to do that."

"You didn't have to do that to begin with! I could have…crawled."

At that Loki actually let out a genuine laugh. "Perhaps next time I'll let you."

Loki moved back into Tony's field of vision, placing about a dozen large books on the coffee table in front of the couch, and sitting in the space next to Tony's feet, crossing one ankle over his knee. With one hand, he pushed up the cuff of Tony's jeans to rest a hand on his shin, and propped a book against his own leg with the other, flipping it open and beginning to read.

"Go to sleep, Stark. Teleportation is rough the first few times, particularly if you're traveling alongside, rather than casting the spell yourself. You'll feel better when you wake up."

"Actually, dizziness aside, I feel great," Tony said. Loki looked over at him skeptically. "No, seriously, that was amazing. That was the most incredible thing I've ever seen. I'm still processing, but I think my entire view of the universe just shifted or expanded or cleared or something. I'll figure it out later. The point is, it was unbelievable, to see everything like that. Thank you, for showing it to me."

Loki was still looking at him oddly, so Tony tried to give a smile to show his sincerity, but felt blissful sleep closing in, blurring the edges of his vision. He thought though, that before his eyes closed completely, he saw the ghost of a smile on Loki's face.


	8. Chapter Eight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone, long time, no see! Sorry about that. But at long last, here you are, Happy New Year and I hope you enjoy the next chapter!

When Tony woke up, his first thought was that he was ridiculously comfortable. He resisted opening his eyes and instead luxuriated in the very rare feeling of being well rested and hangover free, breathing out a soft sigh and stretching lightly from his neck and shoulders all the way to his toes.

“Stark, if you kick me again, I’ll throw you out of my window. And I live on the 6th floor, it’s possible you would survive, but not without grievous injury.”

All semblance of peace left Tony as he was harshly reminded of where he was and whose lap must currently be keeping his toes warm. 

“Argh!” Tony gasped, lurching upright and staring at Loki with wide eyes. Loki stared back at him, one eyebrow raised and his lips pressed into a thin line.

“Good evening,” he deadpanned. 

“Evening?” Tony asked. They had left Avengers Tower that morning; surely he hadn’t slept all day?

“Indeed.”

To Tony’s consternation, Loki turned his attention back to the book propped up on Tony’s shins, which were resting flat across Loki’s thighs, and proceeded to ignore him. Honestly the whole thing was disconcertingly domestic. Also, he kind of felt like resting his legs across a (former) super villain’s lap was just asking for them to be hacked off. He cleared his throat. 

“Why are my feet in your lap?”

“You put them there. Repeatedly,” Loki replied, looking annoyed. 

“Doubt it. I’m not in a habit of leaving my legs in dangerous places. I’m kind of attached to them.”

“I assure you, despite my efforts to keep your various extremities off of me, you rather insistently kept replacing them. It is almost impressive how stubborn you are, even while unconscious.”

“Nah, if you really didn’t want them there, they wouldn’t be there. You must just not mind them that much,” Tony replied with a wink and a smirk. Tony Stark’s go-to awkward situation diffuser: flirt.

“Short of breaking your knees, I was unable to prevent it.”

“Do you have a foot fetish? Be honest.”

“A foot fetish? “ Loki asked incredulously. “You mortals are ridiculous. Appreciating features naturally found on a body is hardly a fetish. No, Stark, my fetishes tend much darker,” he said with a smirk.

Tony’s mind went hazy for a moment, trying to imagine exactly what constituted a dark fetish for a god. Nope, better not even go there. He cleared his throat again and broke eye contact, finding the hem of his shirt interesting all of a sudden.

“Right, well, that’s…certainly interesting. Nice little tidbit. Thanks for sharing.” 

Loki only smiled in reply, eyes falling back to his book.

“So, find anything helpful yet?” Tony asked, gesturing to the piles of ancient books on the table.

Loki sighed and looked back up at him. “Not as of yet. This is not going to be an instantaneous process.”

“You haven’t found a single thing? I’ve been knocked out all damn day and you didn’t find anything?” 

“You haven’t been out ‘all damn day,’ you slept for two hours. And I spent half of that time defending myself. You kick like a mule when you sleep.”

“If it’s already evening, how was I only asleep two hours?”

“I believe you call it a time change.”

It took an embarrassingly long 10 seconds for Tony’s brain to catch up. “Your apartment isn’t in New York.”

“It is not. We are in Andorra. Specifically, Andorra La Vella.”

“Oh of course. You would have a villainous lair in tiniest country in the world.”

“There are plenty that are smaller, and I did not choose it for its size.”

“Why did you, then?”

“I find that I am generally unharassed with questions here,” Loki said, glaring pointedly at him.

“Okay, point taken. Hermit.”

When Loki made no reply, Tony took a moment to observe Loki’s apartment. All in all, it was less flashy than he would have imagined. Leather couch, wood floors, dark metal and granite, all high quality enough, but not ostentatious. It certainly lacked the dramatic flair that Loki’s battle regalia held. They were in the living room, which held no television that Tony could see, the space generally being dominated by the couch they were on and a huge bookcase on the back wall. He was relieved, however, to at least see a laptop resting on an end table. Not completely cut off from the world, then.

The kitchen was open to the living room via a half-wall with a bar overlooking it, and actually looked as though it got some use. Picturing Loki cooking was almost enough to make Tony laugh, but he restrained himself.

There were two doors down a short hallway, both closed, leading to what Tony assumed would be a bathroom and bedroom. In the opposite direction was a window, showcasing what Tony expected would be a view of Andorra, if he had been close enough to look out of it.

He gently started to pull his legs away, intent on going to see for himself where they were, when Loki’s hand latched onto his ankle.

“What are you doing?”

“I just wanted to look out the window. Take in the sights. I’ve never been to Andorra before.”

“Look later,” Loki scoffed at him, “I’m trying to concentrate, I don’t need a headache right now.” He tightened his grip on Tony’s ankle.

“I’m sure you can survive for a minute. I just want to see for myself where I am.”

“No. Unnecessary.”

“Loki, let go of me. Now,” Tony demanded. He yanked his leg back again as hard as he could, but it had no effect whatsoever. Loki’s grip remained steady and bruising, and he looked as though he hadn’t even noticed Tony’s attempts to pull free.

This was bad. He was starting to get the faintest stirrings of panic in his chest. Pathetic as it was, ever since Afghanistan, he had become so much more sensitive to feeling trapped. Captured. Because captured led to torture, and torture led to giant holes in his chest and lots of people dying and Yinsen and pain. He jerked his leg harder, till it felt like he might dislocate it, but it had no effect. Feeling desperate, he kicked out with his other leg, aiming for Loki’s head.

“Stark!” Loki shouted in surprise, firmly catching Tony’s other ankle out of self-preservation.

He didn’t even realize it was happening until he heard his breaths leaving him in shortened gasps. Not here, not now, he really couldn’t do this here…logically, he knew he was in Loki’s apartment. He knew Loki was just trying to avoid a headache, and probably didn’t even realize how hard he was holding Tony. He was actually fairly certain that he knew Loki had no plans to torture or maim him. But getting that message from the logical side of his brain to the reactionary, instinctual, PTSD-ridden part of his brain just didn’t seem possible. 

He was back in the caves, head underwater. He was waking up with a car battery attached to him. Starving. Freezing. Getting the shit kicked out of him. Watching Yinsen run ahead of him…gunfire and smoke and screaming.

He snapped out of the caves and back to the present when he heard his name called out in a familiar voice that certainly hadn’t been in the caves with him, and he was met with green eyes, hovering only a foot or so away from his own. Gradually, the eyes became and entire face, which connected to an entire body, whose hands were currently resting on either side of Tony’s face.

“Stark… can you hear me again? Stark, do you know where you are?” If Tony didn’t know any better, he would call Loki’s tone ‘concerned,’ but that would be ridiculous. He was most likely just worried that he broke the Avenger he had out on loan, and that Big Brother and company would be holding him very much accountable.

“Yeah. I’m fine. I’m okay…sorry,” he added sheepishly. He felt the acute sting of embarrassment and lowered his gaze. He even hated for Pepper to see this side of him, much less for Loki to bare witness. It was humiliating.

Loki dropped one hand to the side of his neck and gently pushed two fingers just below his jaw.

“Your pulse is still elevated,” he noted. He felt rather than saw Loki give him a full once over. “Your hands are shaking as well.”

Tony felt too stupid to answer, instead keeping his eyes down and clasping his hands together to try and stop the tremors.

Loki’s hand moved back up from his neck to his face again, and gently he started to stroke Tony’s temples with his thumbs. Tony sighed as the panic and humiliation gradually gave way to comfort and safety and warmth. His breathing was even starting to slow until he noticed the faint green tint of magic around his temples in his peripheral vision.

“What are you doing?” He asked, trying to fight off the panic he could feel creeping in again. “Please tell me you aren’t mind-controlling me to keep me from freaking out, because that will really ensure that I freak out! Again!”

Loki stilled his hands and Tony saw the green fade away. He felt appallingly worse off once it was gone and immediately regretted telling Loki off for it. Loki, however, just gave him a faint, tiny smile.

“Nothing of the sort. It’s a spell my mother used to do for me, when I was distressed. It doesn’t alter your thoughts; it merely surrounds one with the feeling of security and comfort, like a bright, hot fire on a cold, dark night. I apologize if I overstepped bounds by performing it on you. And,” Loki looked genuinely regretful, “I apologize for triggering ill memories. I know the pain that can be found within them. It was not my intent to do so, I was absorbed in the task at hand and did not take into consideration what my actions would imply.”

“It’s fine. I overreacted,” Tony mumbled, feeling miserable again.

“How do you fare now?”

“Shitty.”

“Eloquent. Allow me to continue?” Loki asked, brushing his thumbs across Tony’s temples just once, waiting for a reply. 

Tony nodded slowly, relieved that Loki had offered. It really had been a soothing feeling until the glow of his magic had freaked out Tony.

Loki began gently brushing his thumbs up and down his temples again, and once again, Tony felt like someone was wrapping him up in a thick, soft blanket. He tried to imagine what Loki’s mom must be like, to be able to bring that kind of comfort to someone so volatile and troubled. One hell of a lady, probably. 

Loki shifted his weight slightly and Tony only then realized how close they were sitting. Tony had one leg hanging off the edge of the couch and the other leg partially wedged between the cushions of the couch back and seat, and Loki was sitting knelt between them, as far forward as possible. Tony had been so out of it during his panic attack that he hadn’t even realized either of them had moved. 

He felt vaguely embarrassed by the situation, but not enough to move away. Loki really was working magic on him, he hadn’t felt this relaxed and secure since before Afghanistan. It was such an amazing relief he wasn’t entirely sure he could even process it. Years of therapy and pills had done squat for him, but 3 minutes of a temple massage from the god of mischief had him breathing again. Go figure. 

His head seemed to tip forward of its own accord, his forehead landing lightly on Loki’s shoulder. Loki’s hands moved with him him, thumbs continuing their path, and Tony thought he felt a slight rumbling chuckle, but the god made no other comment on his move. 

************

Loki had been quite surprised when the mortal had allowed him to resume the spell. He had been even more surprised to feel Stark’s head come to rest on his shoulder, essentially dropping all defenses. It had been a very long time since someone had shown enough trust in him to actually lower their guard, even to rely on him for something such as this. It was making the most ridiculous warmth course through him, and he was shocked to find he had no desire to betray the foolish man’s trust. 

He typically resented casual contact with anyone, but this was actually drawing him in rather than repulsing him. He wasn’t sure if it was a side effect of the spell or just a side effect of Stark himself, but Loki was finding it rather pleasant. Even though Stark should be the only one feeling the benefits of this spell, Loki felt himself soothed as well. 

They sat like that for what felt like a long time, until Tony finally leaned back a bit and met Loki’s eyes. “So, uh, thanks for that. I think I’m okay now. That’s seriously some great magic though, I mean shit, you’ve done what about 30 therapists and $100,000 couldn’t…” he trailed off, the faintest blush coloring his cheeks. 

“It was the least I could do, after my actions.”

“You really didn’t do anything, I just have, um, ‘triggers’ I guess is what they’re called.”

“As do I, as you have already discovered. Suffice to say we both have enough unpleasantness in our respective histories to last a lifetime. I will endeavor to not ‘trigger’ yours again.”

“Well, great, thanks. Me too.”

Stark cleared his throat and looked away from him. At somepoint Loki had dropped his hands from the mortal’s face, and now had one hand resting gently on Stark’s wrist, maintaining the required contact. Making an impulsive decision he stood up, tugging very lightly on Stark. 

“Come along, if you’re feeling better.”

“Come along to where, exactly?”

“You wanted to see Andorra and it’s nearly suppertime. Two birds, one stone, I believe is the ridiculous Midgardian turn of phrase.”

“Oh!” Tony said, perking up considerably. He stood and grinned at Loki. “In that case, lead the way!”

Loki smiled back at him, surprised by the simple fact that he wanted to show Stark around the city, to dine with him. He knew logically that they shouldn’t waste time with something with as unimportant as this, not while they had the much larger issue of breaking the curse looming over them, but Loki found that he just couldn’t bring himself to care. Especially with Stark smiling at him, as though he was actually looking forward to this as well. Pushing aside his guilt at diverting their focus for a few hours, he led them out of his apartment and onto the snowy streets.

*************

Andorra la Vella, Tony decided, was like a village from a fairytale. Nestled in between mountains with twinkly stars overhead that you could actually see (not like in New York City, where the city lights drowned out the stars) and snow covered, ancient churches, and the soft, welcoming orange glow coming from restaurants and shops…Tony sighed happily. People walked the streets, bundled up from the chill, but not with the same urgency of New York. He had the impression that people were more content here, more appreciative of life. Took time to soak it all in.

He then considered the man…god…walking next to him. As soon as they had exited the apartment, Loki had shifted his grip from Tony’s wrist to his hand, most likely because two men holding hands looked much more natural than one man dragging another around by the wrist. 

Loki looked completely at ease guiding them along, yet somehow, he didn’t fit here. He didn’t fit any better in New York, either. And from what Tony had learned from Thor, and more recently from Loki himself, he didn’t fit in Asgard, his own home. The thought made Tony inexplicably sad, and he tightened his hand around Loki’s by a fraction.

Loki looked down at him, curious, but didn’t question him or shake his hand free. Instead, he began pointing out various buildings and streets to Tony, weaving stories of this place’s history as they walked to whatever restaurant Loki had in mind. 

For a little while, Tony finally forgot. Forgot about the scary-as-shit magic bond that he had blindsided him, forgot about the past, forgot about New York and all of the responsibilities that went along with that place. He let the past fall to the back of his mind, and instead enjoyed his present.

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I am obviously not Marvel. Or Disney. I own none of these characters. I certainly enjoy writing them though :)


End file.
